The Day After

Due to my own lack of organisation, I found myself at the gym at 7am yesterday morning.

Kitted out in my Warehouse singlet and shorts, I warmed up  – seven long minutes cycling in place. Making the most of my time, I wrapped my hands with my red hand wraps, only to get them tangled in pedals. At last, hands wrapped, warmed up and ready for action, I went upstairs to do some boxing. I practised what I remembered on one of the more traditional-looking punching bags. Left jab, right jab, left hook, right hook, uppercut, uppercut!

I didn’t try to hit hard, but the bag hurt anyway. I left with skin torn from knuckles.

The day after, my lats ached with that unmistakeable feeling. It’s a strange kind of ache – while it hurts, and makes moving in certain ways difficult, its also really good. You really take notice of that muscle, and wonder how you didn’t know it even existed, or why you never use it.

As time goes on, and you use the muscles more and more, they complain less and less. But I really do enjoy knowing that one muscle more has been used.

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