Defeated, but not dead.

Tonight, in boxing, I had my ass handed to me.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't like to lose. In fact, I don't like even being on par with others.

Tonight was a wake up call. I can't lie to myself. I am weak.

Tonight was a message to my face that I need to dodge better.
Tonight was a message to my legs I need to be able to move better.
Tonight was a message to my arms I need to throw harder.
Tonight was a message to my fist I need to aim better.
Tonight was a message to my shoulders I need to tuck in better.
Tonight was a message to my brain, I need to be the best I can be.

My opponent was faster, more technical and hit harder. I have to rise above that.

No more alcohol.
No more fatty foods.
No more of that shit.
Cutting out carbs. Cutting out sweets. Cutting out late nights. Cutting out on cigs.

If I'm gonna lose, I'm gonna destroy myself for it and start over again.

Randall.