Peak Performance

From Fear to Flow

I’m crouching low and squared off against a predictably gorilla-esque man. We’re on a hill in San Francisco where gangs used to settle scores with bats, knives and whatever other weapons they could get ahold of. My bare feet grip sand that once was speckled with blood clots. I’m holding 25 pounds of cold iron in my hands. He wants me to throw it at him.

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