Lord (well, Lady) of the Dance
A few weeks ago, I wrote my life list.
So, I figured, I better get cracking on some of this stuff.
This week’s challenge was number ten on my list: Get back into dance and perform.
I’m not quite at the performance stage just yet, but I took my first jazz class in over 3 years and frankly, I rocked it.
I was a little apprehensive as I stepped into the large studio space into a room full of serious looking leotard-donned people (I opted for the track pants/tank top casual dance ensemble). I sat down and did some random stretches, hoping the basic warm-up techniques would come back to me.
The teacher arrived and did the first half of the warm up on the floor. I stretched and got loose to the sounds of Janet Jackson and followed along quite nicely. The second half of the warm up was a whole bunch of ballet, which caught me off guard. I tried to blend in, but most likely looked like someone who just got off the ‘special bus’.
Then came the ‘routine’ portion of the class. Mid way through, I needed CPR, but I battled through to the end. And as my toes pointed and my arms stretched and my body twisted, turned and leaped, I realised, I’ve missed this. So much. I wanted the beat to keep playing and my body to just keep moving.
I left sweaty, tired and blissfully happy.
Then came the next day. I woke up with that satisfied feeling, you know the one, where your body feels a little fatigued because you put it through its paces. The bike ride to work wasn’t too bad. Over the course of the day, I noticed that when I’d get up from my desk, my legs weren’t cooperating with the program with their usual ease. The pace of my walk slowed down somewhat and a dull ache spread throughout my entire body, to the point that lifting my pen felt like championship weightlifting.
As you’ve probably guessed, the bike ride home was not pretty. Come home time, my legs were in full on failure. The pedals on Clooney felt like giant rocks that I was trying to push up hill. ‘Are those….muscles?’ I asked myself, looking down at my shaky legs as they attempted to get me home. The harder I tried to pedal, the more I appeared to be going in slow motion. I had to stop midway up a hill and wave the cars around me as I caught my breath (and it wasn’t even really a hill, more of a ‘slight incline’, I just thought ‘hill’ would make it sound better).
As I sit here now, I’m not sure if I’ll ever regain full use of my legs, my right shoulder and I think I have sustained permanent damage to my pinky toe, but I can’t wait for next week’s class.
Bring it bitches, bring it all on!
