All that walking about town yesterday left me a little tired out today, but in a good way. Cancer certainly has its way of sucking energy out of you for any reason, sometimes even when you think you ought to be at your top pace. I guess it’s just that after MBC, your top pace changes. Today I resisted further excursions, figuring I’d build up steam for the weekend.
I did, however, dance, or more accurately, choreograph. No matter what my pace has been, the dancing still kicks around in me. At least in my head. My body’s movements often have little to do with what is actually happening in my head. No matter. I am trying to relearn all of this. My back is as stiff as, well, as stiff as titanium. When I recall the fluid movement that the kinesthetic memory still recalls, I want to cry. But I refuse. The body simply can no longer do it, but, weirdly, I can sometimes feel it, especially when I close my eyes. But the rolling, swaying movements for body curls and jazz isolations are impossible. I miss those delicious moves.
Stil, I have what I have, and I will make it do something within the allowances. As I keep saying, just because I cannot do what I used to do the way I used to do it does not mean I should give it up altogether. Learning to dance with the kind of stiffness in my back is just the first step. A baby step. I worked on several parts of a piece. The motivation was there, and I stuck with it for an hour, even though it was tough and I did have to sit several times before finishing the session.
It might not seem like a lot to do a low level of activity, with breaks, for an hour, but building up the strength to dance even at that level is a goal I have been working toward for a while now. Today felt like a victory.
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