My right knee is feeling well at last; soreness leaving. The two things I fear most these days are injury and gaining weight. When I saw the scale go up even one pound (coach has me weight training), a bit of panic set in. I simply will not gain weight under any circumstances. When my right knee became sore after acceleration drills, I backed off the drills. After analysis, I realize that I accelerate from my right side; will attempt to accelerate from both sides now.
My ballet work is coming along slowly. My hamstrings are starting to loosen up as my flexibility increases. I am far from a dancer but I am learning even at my advanced age. If I can learn to run distances, I can allow my body to dance. At times, I am lost in the music, on beat watching, listening and feeling each movement with music under my teacher’s watchful eye. I even removed the pink “bun warmer” that my Mum made for me more than 30 years ago when I danced; memories rich and warm. I am grateful and thankful for what my old body can do.
No amount of fears and tears will change my reality these days. I accept my reality and move on with the adaptation my surgical training has given me. I stand my ground, assess my situation and deal with what I find. It’s as simple as that. As I listened to a Vaughn Williams piece being played by the Utah Symphony, I am at peace. Being able to listen to my late husband’s work weighs heavily on my heart; makes me glad to hear the precision of his practice. I can remember him working on the passages; sweet memories measure by measure.
Today I recall entering the rehearsal hall just as the symphony was completing an early morning rehearsal. I was visiting for a couple of days; during a two-week hiatus from residency. The rain was pouring in sheets; the dampness of the wood around me in the darkness of the back of the rehearsal hall. I wrapped myself in my cape as I sat in a back row seat; listening to that same Vaughn Williams piece. The conductors thick accent correcting and directing the musicians; molding them as they are clay.
Rich memories, bittersweet but part of my life and psyche. I run and allow the waves of grief to envelope me in the cold morning rain. The darkness gave way to grey and more rain. I measured each step as I avoided the water pooling in the street. My life of questions continue as I measure twice, run twice and cut once.