Sunday, January 22, 2017

We're gonna die

I was determined to get to class this morning to avoid missing the next step in whatever our instructor is developing. My knee-length shorts haven't gotten through the wash yet, so I dressed in full-length tights. It's winter, right?

Checking in at the front desk I was reminded that our regular instructor was out, and the instructor from the Saturday morning class was substituting. Yes, the instructor who teaches Beginner 2 as if it's 2.75. I love her dearly, but I'm still ramping up from my months-long layoff. If I wanted to be in her class I would have shown up yesterday.

Quite a few of the regulars were absent, and there were a fair number of new (to me) faces. Two of them were younger women who showed up because they knew this instructor and wanted to take her class, and the three had an animated chat while I warmed up.

Barre was fairly typical for this instructor, meaning most of this class's regulars were puffing and sweating from exertion. When we broke after barre I went out to fill my water bottle. As I passed the two women I overheard one say to the other "We're gonna die!" The other nodded in agreement. Hey, this is not your average Dolly Dinkle ballet school; even the adult classes require real work.

Center went pretty well. I've been working on stretching my hip flexors and psoas so I can maintain a more erect posture with less work. I spend much of my life sitting so these are abnormally tight on me. I think it's working because my balance continues to improve in tiny but noticeable increments. Most of my turns are more stable than they ever have been, which allows more attention to things like spotting and how my working leg is positioned. I did have to sit out part of one exercise as recovery time, but that was a conscious decision that I'm comfortable with.

I may be a year older but I'm not the ones thinking I'd die.

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