INTRODUCTION
“Jab, Cross, Hook, Uppercut! Jab, Cross, Hook, Uppercut!” My trainer yelled out boxing moves. He was loud for the sake of being loud. I followed his commands as best I could with my big pink gloves. I felt like Gigi Hadid whenever I practiced with him. “Eye contact, stop yawning, put your shoulder into it, use more energy, stop yawning. . . .” I could tell he was starting to get frustrated with my lackluster performance. I didn’t mind; I was relieved to not be in charge for the first time all day. I meant to go straight to the gym from my office, but, as usual, I forgot my gym bag. Our session started at 5 p.m. and I had rolled in around 5:20. I was known as the “late client.”
My brain was still in a million pieces from the hustle ...
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