Day Before My Birthday

Outside of Alan, the only people in the gym tonight were myself, Carlos and Jamil.  Alan was still trying to get fights for this Wednesday for Jamil and Johnny.  "I'm a little nervous about having a fight. I think I'm not ready," Jamil said.  "How long you've been coming here? About four months, right?  You're ready," I told him. 

"Did you practice over the past few days?" Alan asked me.  I did, finding my Title individual workout timer, setting it for three minutes per round.  The combinations were coming fast and furious.  "Now how come I can't go this fast while sparring or in a match?" I wondered.  I've been feeling all of 47 years old lately.  I suppose I'll feel all of 48 years old tomorrow. 

Before Carlos and I sparred, I thought to myself, "Please, no body shots."  Carlos got the body shots in, and I covered up against some of them, but not all.  The nausea began to rise again.  Later, Alan told me, "Well, Carlos is heavy-handed, plus he's taller than you."  So is Meg, who I'm scheduled to box with on Wednesday. 

Earlier in the day, my dry bottom lip was irritating me.  The cold weather plays havoc with my skin, and my lips go bone dry.  I picked the dead skin away, a bad habit I need to stop.  I pulled too much and blood appeared.  I put on lip balm, hoping Pastor Roger wouldn't notice it.  "Do you have a bloody lip?" he asked after I stopped in his office before leaving work for the day.  I explained my dry skin problem.  "It'll probably get cut open again tonight at the gym," I joked.  Pastor shook his head.

Carlos took a look at my lip at the end of the evening.  The blood had stopped coming by that time, but there was a spot indicating the damage.  He thought he busted my lip, but he initially didn't want to say anything.  I chuckled.