Practice makes perfect, or…?

I’m just home from my first salsa lesson for the season. It’s with a near equal amount of fear and excitement I go into my first class. After weeks of not dancing, techniques are forgotten, and stamina is at an all time low. I scan the class. I know most people but there are a few new faces. I pray I am going to survive the class relatively faultless. Breeze through it, like a gazelle with wings. But the first few steps are weary. I realise soon it’s over a month ago since I walked in high heels. If walking takes some time to get used to again, then dancing is even more challenging. First move is a double spin. I watch women around me execute it faultlessly, I don’t. I nearly loose my balance. I curse myself silently. I love the music, I love the rhythm, but I’m too focused on execution. So is everyone else around me too.

Time goes by, and towards the end, running 20 minutes late, I’m exhausted. When my dance partner suggest we practice the routine after hours I’m not in the mood. I’m tired, I want home, and after a few practice rounds I make my excuses and walk home. Brisk steps, key is in the door. I’m finally home…

Tired and ready for bed