Hi, all! Welcome to the third and final chapter of the Blood Wall Trilogy. If you haven’t read the first two chapters, please click here to get caught up before reading chapter three: End of an Era.
As you may have read in the second installment, I pride myself on being one of several who helped spread the custom to the gym I transferred to around level 7. However, I am ashamed to admit that I was also witness to the end of the tradition that was the blood wall.
The beginning of the end was a face-plant on beam. Little did I know that a botched handspring layout to my face would eventually aid in the demise of the time-tested blood wall.
Hi, all! Welcome to the second chapter of the Blood Wall Trilogy. If you are wondering what on earth a blood wall is, please click here to read the first chapter here. Caught up? Good. Then please, sit back and enjoy part two: Tales of the Traveling Blood Wall.
There is something important I forgot to mention about the blood wall. There is not a blood wall. There are blood walls. Yes, plural. You see, the tradition began at my first gym, started by the optional team for reasons unknown. All of my compulsory years were spent at that gym, adding to the wall.
Chapter 1: Exactly What It Says On the Tin
At my old gym, we had something called a blood wall. And before you ask, no, that is not a metaphor, nor is it an Academy Award-winning slasher movie.
It was, disgustingly enough, exactly what it sounded like. You see, some people have scrapbooks with commemorative photos. Students have yearbooks, so they will always remember and be remembered by their classmates. The girls gymnastics team? We had a flipping blood wall.