Post by Jacob B. Dole on Mar 25, 2009 21:10:34 GMT 1
Several weeks had passed since his last day of school, and thus far his injuries had healed up quite nicely. Every once in awhile he had a tweak in his left shoulder, but besides that he could more around just as he had before, so the next step was regaining his instincts and former physique. The latter of the two was much easier to obtain, as he had continued to workout as much as he could despite the doctors orders, though the pain was to much at times, and otherwise he was limited to doing about half his usual amount. Regardless, his body was restless from the point he awoke in the morning to now, and would most likely continue that way till night’s curtain covered San Francisco.
Having coughed up another twenty dollars from his account he headed to one of the more renown gyms in San Francisco, paying for a day pass and headed inside to get changed. Walking into the main area of the gym he was ready to work out in a pair of TapOut shorts that fell just short of his knee’s and a while muscle shirt, along with his Adidas sneakers. He started off on the treadmill, warming up his body as the sound of his feet pounded against the conveyer belt – echoing in his ear to distract him from the sound of people sparring in the other room. After his jog he moved onto an inverted bench, locking his feet on the north side of the bench and bent his knee’s in. Bringing his fingertips up to his temple he started to work his midsection, starting off with side-to-side movements as he started off his set. Every time he brought his left elbow to his right knee he saw the sparring rings through the open garage sized doors.
Every time he looked it was like he was toying with his urges to get back into the ring and spar. Just once would’ve been fine, but imagine seeing it two hundred and fifty times? It had nearly driven him crazy to get a feel for the ring again. Sitting up he grabbed the handle and slipped his feet out from underneath the holds, getting back onto his feet and grabbing his bag while heading into the sparring section of the gym. For the moment he sat back, leaning against the wall as he looked over the rings he could see, the itch for combat growing stronger. Slowly, but surely he was throwing jerking movements as though he was fighting, his hunger to compete rising inside.
Having coughed up another twenty dollars from his account he headed to one of the more renown gyms in San Francisco, paying for a day pass and headed inside to get changed. Walking into the main area of the gym he was ready to work out in a pair of TapOut shorts that fell just short of his knee’s and a while muscle shirt, along with his Adidas sneakers. He started off on the treadmill, warming up his body as the sound of his feet pounded against the conveyer belt – echoing in his ear to distract him from the sound of people sparring in the other room. After his jog he moved onto an inverted bench, locking his feet on the north side of the bench and bent his knee’s in. Bringing his fingertips up to his temple he started to work his midsection, starting off with side-to-side movements as he started off his set. Every time he brought his left elbow to his right knee he saw the sparring rings through the open garage sized doors.
Every time he looked it was like he was toying with his urges to get back into the ring and spar. Just once would’ve been fine, but imagine seeing it two hundred and fifty times? It had nearly driven him crazy to get a feel for the ring again. Sitting up he grabbed the handle and slipped his feet out from underneath the holds, getting back onto his feet and grabbing his bag while heading into the sparring section of the gym. For the moment he sat back, leaning against the wall as he looked over the rings he could see, the itch for combat growing stronger. Slowly, but surely he was throwing jerking movements as though he was fighting, his hunger to compete rising inside.