Poor Allen wasn't feeling well tonight; it was a case of the flu, but he came into the gym anyway. No sign of Old Jim, but Paul came in, along with John and Mark. Matthew showed up later, and I learned that he's Allen's son.
John and I sparred. We were supposed to go light. I didn't wear my mouthpiece. I was choking on it after I put it in, and then I took it out. I never quite got used to wearing one, to be honest. Perhaps I need to cut it down a little so it doesn't upset my gag reflex. John got me in the jaw, and then again in the face. I was able to get in a right hook to the body on him a couple of times. We only did two rounds, which was enough for me. I was wore out.
After I got back home, I thought I felt a cut on the right side of my face. There wasn't one, but the area was a little tender. It'll probably hurt a little more in a couple of days, due to my delayed reaction to pain.
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