Fast Forms and Enchanting Conversation

Almost as if the universe had a sense of humour, the new summer training schedule arrived today, accompanied by heavy rain and a temperature that dropped back to something approaching winter. The timing was impeccable. The irony was not lost on anyone.

It mattered little to me. I had a day to get on with — and after Sunday, I was quietly grateful for the structure of it. The simple instruction to show up and move. I had hoped that putting some distance between myself and the decisions and feelings of the day before might be as straightforward as filling the hours with practice.

Of course it wasn't. Life rarely works that way, and it certainly didn't today.

Everything felt slightly off. Not dramatically, not in any way that could be pointed to clearly — just enough to make every movement feel a little more laboured than it should, a little more earned than usual. I did the only thing available to me. I let the feelings settle where they were, without fighting them, and pushed through.

The summer schedule moves the main session to the evening to avoid the worst of the afternoon heat. And that session worked considerably better. I made the decision to practice fast forms — the explosive ones, the kind that don't leave much room for thought, that move feeling through the body rather than letting it pool in one place. It was exactly what was needed, and I felt better for having done it.

The downside is the hour. We finish late, and just as I discovered last year, the transition from that level of physical intensity to something resembling stillness is not a simple one. The night was spent turning, thoughts moving through the dark without settling, leaving me slightly underdone for the day ahead.

Though I should be honest about what else may have contributed to that.

A few days ago, I shared coffee with a woman I met by chance on the street — warm, kind, generous in the way some people simply are without effort or performance. Last night, she sent a message, and what followed was the kind of conversation that moves easily and lands well, the kind you don't notice the time passing inside until it's already gone.

I have no idea where any of this leads. I rarely do, and I have stopped pretending otherwise. But I am genuinely enjoying the moments as they arrive — which is perhaps all that any of this has ever been asking of me.

So perhaps the poor night's sleep was not entirely the fault of the late training schedule after all.

Perhaps it was the enchanting conversation.