I bow into a decrepit gym or a respected dojo (depending on whether you’re shooting baskets or practicing karate). Bowing in bows out all the tensions and problems of the day. Today I feel like the floor of the dojo, placid and unconcerned, when I don’t, I have more spirit. I start by stretching out, but sometimes I stretch too far and then I have to hold back during training. I hate when we start out with repetitions to build endurance. The Sensei counts ten, then the ten of us in the front row each count ten, then the Sensei counts ten again, with speed, with spirit. I have to save up my breath so that I can count out loud. We’re supposed to relate to the floor, but after a half hour I’m ready to lay on the floor. Part of Karate class is spent in a haze until I get my third wind. Usually that’s when the floor rips off a blister. My bare feet try to grip the floor; sometimes they slide, other times they stick (always when you want the opposite). But my feet feel awfully good when I bow out the dojo.