modern dance

I recently ran into a former boyfriend at a bar. We chatted for awhile, and although he didn't ask me anything like, "What's new with you?" or "Any new hobbies?" I somehow felt the need to share. During a lull in the conversation, I suddenly blurted out, "I want to tell you something." He looked wary. "I've been taking modern dance classes!" Then he looked perturbed. "That doesn't sound like you at all," he said, turning away and heading back to the bar. 

I have mixed feelings about this response. On the one hand, it's a sad fact that I shunned exercise of any form for about ten years because I was loathe to be anything like the coarse, ignorant, homophobic jocks that populated my Catholic high school. But I guess I got it out of my system after a decade. Realizing that if I didn't change my ways I would end up obese and arthritic, I happily began biking and walking around a lot. 

And then one day, out of nowhere, I suddenly had this idea that I should be taking dance classes. It seemed strange, because it wasn't something I'd ever considered doing. Unlike my shattered "theater star" dreams, there was no squelched dance ambition lurking in my past. 

But I wasn't sure where to start. Since my mysterious dance "thing" was probably at least partially inspired by a Live Action Set performance, I went ahead and emailed Megan, who I decided was the most approachable Live Action company member. I asked her if there was any place in town where an "old" (e.g. not a 12-year-old ballerina) person could take beginning dance classes. She referred to me to Zenon.  

So I started taking beginning modern dance classes on Saturday mornings. I was impressed with the range of ages in class--I'd been terrified that I would be the oldest person, surrounded by a bunch of nubile 21-year-olds. I was pleased to discover that plenty of other people decide at say, age 55, that taking up dance is a good idea. 

The classes were fun, but humbling. Basic things like walking four steps forward, and then turning around, were exceptionally daunting. I fumbled around while everyone else seemed to execute every move perfectly. But despite feeling awkward and uncoordinated, I kept coming back, and week by week, I started to improve, ever so slowly.    

I also met a bunch of great people. Lots of the people who take dance classes are super smart and funny and interesting! Not like the people I met at my tennis lessons. (No offense to tennis people, but I just didn't have much luck making friends at the tennis bubble.) 

I don't have a neat little conclusion for this story. I'm still taking the Saturday classes; still trying to make my weight equal on both feet. I've promoted myself to some harder classes, just so I can feel awkward and out of place again. It's addictive!