Thursday, November 1, 2012

My Two Left Feet

The trail was flowing beneath me, we were partners completely in sync with on another. That was one minute and the next minute we were in a domestic dispute. That trail up and walloped me, left me battered, bruised and shocked. So why do I keep going back for more?

I remember the good times, the times where we could read each other and how it felt to dance together and I want to recapture that. Only problem is, I've never been much of a dancer, or very good at any choreographed movement. When I was in college I attended aerobics classes for fitness. I learned which teachers kept things simple. If the moves got too fancy (meaning we moved two body parts at once) I was lost. I would inevitably run into the person next to me and end up in a sweaty red faced mess on the floor. Classes that had the word dance in the title were therefore off limits. I like to dance, I'm just not under the illusion that I am any good at it. Of course when Jack or Jose are at the party I become a much better dancer. Smooth and flowing and most certainly in time with the music;) At least those party boys think I can dance, otherwise why would they encourage me so.

I have been told that running trails downhill is more like ballet than running. I'd be all for it if that meant simply that I had to wear a tutu. As it stands, I keep stepping on my partners feet. Instead of pirouetting I end up stumbling forward like I'd spent a few hours with Jose or Jack and landing in a heap. It seems I always manage to gracefully clear all obstacles with my left foot only to be caught up by my right. Making me the only dancer pining for two left feet:0

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