5:50 AM. Hair is in ridiculous little pigtails, toe is taped out of an abundance of caution. I hear: barking, a neighbor lighting a stove, Muslim call to prayer. First practice at the shala and my tummy is full of butterflies. I know that as I step over the doorstep when it’s my turn to be “One more!” I’ll have the biggest rush of happiness and gratitude. But first, silly nerves.