Day Ten was not a great day. No running, no push-ups, no jump rope. After battling with Truman to get him to drink some juice at lunchtime, I needed to vent. So I went downstairs and hit the heavy bag as hard and as often as I could for five minutes. I held nothing back. Apollo Creed could not have withstood my tiny fists of fury. Had it been our heavyweight title fight, he surely would have gone down in the first round- K.O.'d. I felt much better afterwards but by dinner time, Truman was repeating his same antics and I went out for the evening to get away. Next time I'll go for a long, endurance -building run rather than drive to the beer store.
Two year olds can be effective boxing trainers. Who knew?
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