i've been obsessed with thinking about boxing. i think about how fun it will be to box and hit something inanimate to let out my stress. it's like screaming at the top of my lungs with the windows rolled up in my car. no one knows how good it really feels.
we visited G+k's new house a couple weeks ago. they have a bag hanging from the ceiling in the garage. i gave it a few jabs and knew instantly i wanted one of my very own. but where would i hang it? where would it go? would i really use it? new bags were very expensive. mauricio convinced me i didn't need one, i had no where to put it. end of story.
then, as usual, i was scouting the trash on his street. and lo and behold, an amazing free-standing heavy bag was sitting on the sidewalk with a beautiful hand lettered "free" sign on it. i snatched it up, threw it under my arm, and carried it safely to his basement.
now i just need some sand and some gloves and maybe the rocky theme song?
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