How’s Your Dental Plan?
I’m the little guy getting hit.
Glenn needed a sparring partner to help visualize his new opponent. The last opponent chickened out. The one before that had his sternum broken and had to drop out.
I’m supposed to try and look like the new opponent who stands six foot two and weighs two thirty-five. I’m five nine on a good day, and a paunchy one seventy-eight.
Because I’m editing the blog, I get to choose the pictures. I left out most of the ones of me getting punched in the head, me getting body slammed and me tapping out when Glenn sat on me.
I seemed to be most successful running away.
What would you do if you had two hundred and sixty-five pounds of mad guy coming at you?
Have you even seen a really bad car wreck, or maybe a train derail?
You know that moment when you see someone stand up and climb out of all that carnage, and you just want to go over and raise the guy’s arm and say, “Hey Buddy, you’re alive!”
Yeah.
