My hands still haven't recovered. Yesterday they were fucking so painful, I had to quit writing early. Today I feel as though weights have been tied to my wrists and typing any other way than two-fingered like some fucking pre-PC-primate is damn-near impossible. This is because yesterday, after making me row, cycle, lunge and lift dumb-bells The Beast decided to teach me how to box.

Okay you can stop laughing now.

No, seriously you can stop laughing.

Shut up, okay!

Fine! Fuck you! Okay?

Anyway, we walked - we he did, I kind of lurched - over to the training mat area and he proceeded to tape up my hands. Initially I thought this was an exercise where he just strangled me to death and was done with it, so imagine my surprise when he pulled out a pair of boxing gloves and slipped them over my hands. All of a sudden I heard Survivor's number one hit belting out through my brain.

I started bouncing on my heels, jabbing the air. I circled the mat aggressively. I faked, ducked weaved, and lunged. I bounced up and down and again, and shook my head.

The Beast slapped me in the face.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He yelled.
"I'm, just... you know... getting into th-"

The Beast slapped me in the face.

"Rhetorical question, dingbat! You don't know what you're doing! So allow me to enlighten you. Rule number one about boxing; you're an idiot. Seriously. Eliminate the thought process from your mind. The moment you try to start thinking during boxing, you're fighting an uphill battle. The trick is to learn the basics of what you're capable of and build on that. Then you don't need to think."
"So you mean, you react on instinct?"

The Beast slapped me in the face.

"Don't try to make yourself sound cool. You are not cool. You are an imbecile who knows nothing. Now, let's begin!"

I learned how to jab. I learned how to deliver a right hook. I learned that you need to keep your stance wide. I learned that you need to keep your body turned sideways to reduce the target area. I learned to keep my arms up to prevent being hit. I learned to lead with the left and then throw a right cross. I learned that the heel of your back foot needs to be off the ground at all times. I learned that boxing gloves are heavy. I learned that hitting pads is hard. That The Beast has no mercy. That sweat stings the eyes. That properly delivering a right cross makes me feel like I've been kicked in my ribs. That heavy breathing is a sign of weakness. That pads hurt when someone hits you with them. That farting while boxing isn't funny. Not in the slightest. That it results in being poked in the nose. That boxing gloves really weigh a ton after fifteen minutes. Well, actually it was about ten. Okay, it was five, but they are still fucking heavy. That I am an idiot. That if I just do as I told, that within a split second I can deliver a decent right cross. That if I get cocky I will be poked in the nose.

After fi..te..five minutes we stopped. Sweat is running off me in rivers. The Beast looks like he just woke up.

"Very good," he says. "You will hurt soon."

I will hurt soon. This is good. I want to do this again.

I have obviously lost my mind. It's a good place to be...