It was bad. Of course it was bad.
Sean had made it his personal mission to drag me out of my room and put me through two hours of hell every single day. He called it training. I called it torture, and I stood by that. Part of me regretted letting myself get so out of shape that I could barely handle it anymore, but another part of me was genuinely grateful he was spending time with me again. The boxing sessions at least gave me the satisfaction of landing a punch or two on him in return, which made the suffering slightly more bearable.
