A Not So Graceful Moment

 It happens to all of us: one minute we're in the air, executing some sort of leap or jump, and the next you're flat on the ground. 

 I'm lucky enough to have experienced few injuries in my dance career. The occasional this hurts or that feels funny occasionally plagued me but outside of that, nothing. I've had many friends get surgeries, break bones and sometimes have to quit dance all together from too bad of an injury. Dance isn't for the faint of heart. 

So at the end of winter break when I was practicing in the studio I didn't expect to be leaving it unable to walk. I was recording am audition video for a summer dance job (fingers crossed) that would be the coolest opportunity ever, but thirty seconds into my audition tape, BAM. I landed on the floor, hard. I jumped into my firebird like I had done a million times before but this time I landed on my ankle, the outside circular bone going right while my toes went left. Ouch. At first I thought nothing of it, attempting to stand but as soon as the lightning bolt of pain shot up my ankle I admitted defeat. My ankle was actually hurt.

 One urgent care trip later I (thank god) had no break or fracture but extremely stretched ligaments. I couldn't walk on my foot for two days and had to wear a brace the week after that. On top of everything else, it was my right foot, so I couldn't drive. My two days of being housebound I watched a ridiculous amount of Too Hot to Handle and The Office. That part I actually enjoyed. 

I still went to practice, danced on my ankle a little even though I shouldn't have, but I think that speaks to the dance mindset. If there's pain you push through it. I've danced with fevers, coughs, the flu, you name it. And that's the expectation. The dance world is cut throat. If you want this, you won't let anything get in your way. Controversial, I know, and there are people making strides to change this but at the end of the day this is what comes with being a dancer. That insane drive that will keep you going no matter what the circumstance. 

Two weeks later I'm feeling better with only a twinge of pain here or there. I don't let it bother me. But just one little week of not being able to dance has made me appreciate it just that much more. For me, dance is like breathing: taking that first breath of air when you come up from underwater, blowing out your birthday candles after a particularly hard year, screaming from the mountain top at the end of hike. It's my place to escape the things in life I can't control. Dance is the sweet song at the end of a feel good movie: no matter what's going on outside the studio, everything is going to be alright. 

Till next time - IF