Tomorrow, weather willing, I'm planning to head somewhere outdoors for a jaunt with Java the Mutt. Maybe Tilden, maybe somewhere in Marin.
Then in the evening I'll have another class at Hand to Hand, and while my shoulders and thighs and lower back are still sore from Monday night's full twisting punches and front snapping kicks and sustained horse stance, I'm looking forward to more punching and kicking and an hour to simply focus on what my body is doing instead of what's happening in my head and my heart.
As an aside, after class on Monday, the instructor mentioned that she wouldn't be able to sleep that night because she'd be so nervous about the election, that she might just stay up vomiting from anxiety. While wandering around in the big crowd of screamingly happy, drunk activists dancing, singing, drumming, and playing capoeira at the corner of Broadway and Grand last night, hugging friends and strangers alike, I ran into that instructor and her girlfriend. "Landslide! Landslide!" she screamed, smiling, and hugged me.
Yep, Hand to Hand is where I need to be training. That chance meeting last night was a good reminder of why.