I had my first proper post-hiatus class on Monday night, with my lovely teacher Belle, and I was determined to try my hardest. My goal this term is to really focus on the execution of moves and make sure they're as polished as possible. This took a bit of a hit after about ten minutes when I remembered how freaking hard pre-advanced class is. I made it through to the end of class and to make up for my descent into sweaty ineptitude, when I got home I did a full-on leg stretch session including ten minutes in my middle split stretch machine. I went to bed feeling exhausted but pleased with myself.
Tuesday went a little like this.
3am: managed to very elegantly hurl my water glass onto the floor, into an empty metal bin, which made a wonderful noise which I believe everyone in my street heard quite clearly. And no, I really don't know how I did it.
5:30am: woken up by garbage truck.
6:30am: woken up by second garbage truck (damn you, recycling).
6:45am: boyfriend wakes up to go to work.
7:30am: boyfriend comes in for a goodbye kiss, I'm pretty sure he was met with a snort/snore followed by flailing arms and morning breath. I'm quite a catch.
7:45am: alarm goes off.
8:15am: roll out of bed feeling like I've been beaten up by a cranky boxing-gloved octopus.
8:45am: after a shower and cup of tea, ready to face the day, mostly.
6pm: arrive at SQPS for my pre-adv class with Daisy, which I'm really looking forward to, although I'm feeling a bit tender. But hey, the warm-up will help with that, right?
6:15pm: concerned that I may lose the ability to stand up.
6:20pm: the first combo that Daisy wants us to practice is one that ends with a superman close to the floor. It appears that my muscles have packed up and left for the evening, so my skin, which is particularly sensitive given the three week break I've given it, is taking the lead on all things grip-related. I get through about four of these superman combos before the pain is too much. Luckily at this point Daisy moves on to the next combo.
6:35pm: the next combo also involves a superman. Joy. I grit my teeth and try to ignore the very real sensation that my skin is detaching from my body. I get through three of these and then quietly sit on the floor clutching my thighs in a decidedly unsexy way.
6:45pm: time to practice the routine for this term, which is great as it will give my thighs a break from... oh, what's that? That last combo is actually in the routine and we have to do it three more times? I valiantly give it one more try, and then out of concern that the process of my skin scraping down the brass pole will cause my legs to catch on fire and possibly burn down the studio, I take one for the team and opt out of that move. Y'know, cos I'm all about the welfare of my fellow students.
7pm: home time. I walk out to the car like I've just been on a particularly long horse ride. There will be no epic stretch session tonight.
I was impressed to find this morning that every single major muscle group was in pain. I think this is the sign of a solid workout. After work I went for a nice slow walk with the dog, which helped lessen the soreness in my legs, and while watching NSW again get pummeled by Queensland in State of Origin, I did a gentle upper body stretch session which definitely helped ease my aching shoulders. (I also managed to competently get into and hold a floorwork move that I like to call the "stripper shoulder stand", which I was very proud of, but that's another story for another day.)
Now most normal people would consider that an activity that generates this much pain is possibly not a good idea. But I am not normal; I am a pole dancer. I went on Facebook, watched a Jamilla Deville video, and wondered if I would have time tonight to do a quick practice session. There's so much that I want to do - strength training, flexibility training, finishing my competition routine, practicing my studio routine, not to mention working on transitions and floorwork, and playing with some of the fun lyrical moves that I've learned from Amber Ray in the last few months. There's always something to work on, whether it's training, choreography, or just dancing for the fun of it.
I jumped up excitedly, and then remembered that after last night's class I have actual grazes on my thighs.
Hmm, maybe tomorrow night...
with love from the lit dancer
artemis
P.S. for all my non-dancer friends, this is what a superman looks like:
And this is an iron X. I cannot do an iron X. One day...
