Today was pretty bad. George and I trekked up to this one spot in order to spar. I barely survived the way up. I could blame it on the bag I was carrying, but the truth is that there wasn't really any excuse for it. My legs were dying from all the squats and uphill sprints I've been doing, and I was completely out of breath.
When we finally made it to the top, my legs gave out every few kicks, and I had to stop for that. We were doing a TKD drill where we have to face one another and spar while maintaining the same measure of distance. It's a reflexive exercise. The weird side stance really isn't my thing, but whatever. Since that failed (on my part), we moved on to boxing by having me attack and him evade. That was okay, but I couldn't really lunge forward and go after him like I needed to because of my weakling legs, so my blows kept falling short. And I guess somebody washed my gloves just recently because they were saturated with water and heavier than Descartes.
So, we switched roles, and I was doing great weaving out of everything - until my legs cramped up from that. Again? What the Hell. It was even worse when we were sparring. I leaned forward to throw what would have been an excellent right, and then my hamstring gave out (before, it was my quads).
It was pathetic. And believe me, if I was by myself, I'd be writing about how awesome it was to kill myself. But faultering in the presence of somebody else defeats the point of being better than everybody.