Editor's Note: The following poem was submitted to The Norwich Guidon as a letter to the editor.

I CHALLENGE YOU
by Clay Couitt '03

Waves of ice run through my veins.
Pull hard for a breath, chest freezes with pain.
Nostrils flare, raw and red.
Flying powder covers my head.
Heavy heart beating shocked by the sight
Amazing that my death was planned for tonight.
Tread lightly with care. Run like the wind
Will I be noticed? Let the show begin.
Big corner next. Traction is key.
There he is, get 'em. Are they referring to me?
Eyes open up at the worst possible time.
Arms locked and loaded. This ambush is mine.
Willingly run through the madness, but why?
To fit in? I guess...direct hit...mid -thigh.
Damn...three shots to the chest. They stand there and grin.
No time to question my morals right now.
It is cow-tipping season and I am the cow.
Traction kicks in, I made it through there
A few shots are fired, but what do I care?
Not like the melee that I just went through,
Time to relax and jog for a few.
Coming up on your right, a firing squad,
Ten or twelve people, it's more like a mob.
Snow is not thrown, but launched through the air.
Legs, Jell-O jiggling, chest running out of air.
Heart pounding faster and faster still
Fellow runners are screaming, do they think this is a thrill?
How can I hear this? Am I alive or dead?
Wake up call, moron...took that one in the head.
Damn Vermont and it's six inches of snow
Where was it last night? It would've been nice to know.
Is my heart beating? I no longer care.
The damage is done, and I'm almost there.
I guess I was wrong. I do still feel pain.
The canteen belt was in vain.
A tackler comes to collect his prize.
My moment of glory, I'm twice his size.
Stiff-arm and swim-move are used to escape.
The no-defense Hiesmann. Can I see the tape?
Downstairs I stumble, to meet my friends.
That was fun, but never again.

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