Friday, 8 August 2008


I wipe the sweat tear from my stinging eyes, using my big red 18oz boxing gloves. All I can hear is my laboured breaths and gasping heart. My lungs feel as if they need to blow, my garage is damp dark and wet. I begin another round on my 5 foot bag, my muscles try to fight the lactic acid. I am training hard, I am focused. I am alone with just myself to talk too.
I'm running into a sprint now, was jogging seconds ago. I wonder what my peers are doing at this moment in time? Do they know that I'm up to this secluded task? I try a hill and feel elated when I reach the top, the sound of a passing train...just me here. Another runner fly's me by and winks, he's like me? Cars roar past, making me feel the only one.
I'm going up and down the stairs on my hands, then onto press ups. I open the window and stretch, looking out across the estate I say to my self...
If only I had more friends to train with?

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