Get In The Ring, Daddy.
Sweat drips off my forehead and stings my eyes, making the light bulb above me blur into bright, shaky streaks.
"Deep breath," Dale says. His voice is calm, right next to my ear. "In through the nose. Brace your core like someone is about to punch you."
I try to follow his lead, but my lungs feel small. I grip the knurling of the bar until my palms ache. This weight looked so small when he put it on the rack, but now that it's on my shoulders, it feels like the weight of a whole car.
"Step back. Slow," he commands.