I had every intention of getting out for tonight’s run on the mean streets of Bourne. I quite fancied the idea of being Rocky Balboa, the Italian stallion, pounding the Bourne ghetto. Pounding the dark, dangerous alleyways and no go areas of South Lincolnshire.
The people’s champion.
‘You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!’
I was going to, but it was a little bit windy and starting to drizzle with rain, so I went to the gym.