...means a good day working on kata with my husband in the searing heat of a Tucson summer's day. What I won't do sometimes to untangle a thorny writing knot. It helps to get out of the house, away from the hunched over the blinking screen, gritting my teeth, and wondering what dark plot alley with no exit did I just walk down anyway.
So we grabbed our gis -- thick and heavy cotton, one starts sweating just putting it on -- and headed for the gym, where we have a key and can sneak in to do some training when no one else is there. We have been training karate on and off for over 30 years (mostly on in our younger years, too much off in our later -- though we have returned to it with a renewed heart). And even though I feel stiff, I also feel happy, focused, loose, in touch with that young woman long ago who did this every day. I know I can't return to her, but I would like to be a healthy, older version of that woman, still able to move with some authority and passion through the katas and the sparring drills. At the end of an hour or so, my face was red and I felt sufficiently wrung out to go back to working with a clearer head.