Held the pads for the juniors after an early shift and my shoulders were already tired before the bigger lads started hitting. It's different from being out of breath, more like my arms take a second longer to come back where I want them. I changed partners and let another coach do the last rounds while I watched feet, which the kids probably reckoned was me being picky as usual. Walking Bruno afterwards loosened me up a bit, though I let him have a good sniff at every lamp post. Usually I'm pulling him along. Got home and left the wraps on the table because reaching the radiator seemed a bloody long way.

One of the lads stayed behind to apologise for kicking off last week when I stopped his sparring. He'd brought it up himself, no parent stood behind him making faces. I said fair enough, next session we start again, then spent the rest of the evening proper chuffed about it. Sounds daft getting that much out of an apology, but I remember being his age and thinking backing down meant everyone had beaten you. I nearly rang my old coach on the walk home, just out of habit, before remembering I can't. Been years now. Told my girlfriend instead and she listened through the whole explanation, even the boxing bits she already knows.

The warehouse is offering Saturday overtime on the same day as an away show for the juniors, and I've been trying to make the hours fit when they plainly don't. Wedding money matters. So does turning up for lads I've told all month I'd be there. My girlfriend asked whether another coach could take them, not in a nasty way, and I caught myself listing reasons only I could possibly manage a minibus and some gloves. That's rubbish, obviously. I've worked with the other coaches for years. Haven't decided yet, but I'm having to work out which bit is the kids needing me and which bit is me not wanting to miss their day.