Jordan was a no-show this past Friday. Maybe he was still ticked over me stepping to him last Wednesday. Ask me if I care. He's constantly telling Steve that he's going to work out more, blah, blah, blah. Right after he makes such a statement, he disappears for a day or two. I bet any amount of money, Jordan will show up Wednesday begging to spar, or asking Steve to get him ready for the City-Wide or the Golden Gloves. After Steve tells him -- again -- to show him that he's serious about boxing, Jordan will play the same broken record.
Other than Keith and myself, the gym was filled with all newcomers. Shawn, the guy who Jordan was attempting to dazzle with his nonsense the other week, didn't come in. I wish he had, because we would not have been interrupted.
Steve and I did a few hard rounds on the pads. "You needed that," he told me, and I agreed that I did. The next day, I stood on the scale in my house and was shocked to find that I had lost 20 pounds. When I saw the foot doctor last week, he commented, "Whatever you are doing, keep it up. You look good." I didn't think I had lost but about five or seven pounds. Gives me incentive to keep watching what I eat. It's not about trying to look cute these days, it's about staying healthy.
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