Back in the gym after a condensed eternity. The day can only be explained by vast, untrammeled calamity. No surprise there.
To summarize, my ass got kicked. Literally, figuratively, metaphorically – whatever you can think of probably applies.
I lost count how many times I picked myself up from the canvass and my assortment of bruises looks like God is testing ink on new printer.
Really no such thing as light training and sparring. Lies, I tell you. But I learned new techniques on clinching and throwing, which is nice, but does spectacularly nothing for my body pains.
After the beating I received, I would like to see anyone try to steal these from me.
I’m quite confident I will end up with complete bowls, plus a dead body.