For Christmas, my favorite daughter (don't let her sisters know I said that) gave me a Zumba Gold DVD. Not that my two other favorite daughters (don't let their sisters know I said that) don't give me wonderful gifts. And not that I don't use double negatives in sentences. They do. And I do. But this is about my dancing rebirth at 70.
I've been an enthusiastic but poorly coordinated dancer when I've danced, but I've been dancing less and less due to advancing age and diminished dancing opportunities. As a result I've gotten out of shape, and discovered:
Advanced Age + Enthusiastic Dancing - Recent Practice = Sprains + Tendinitis
Which only tends to encourage non-dancing. Zumba (maybe) will change that.
For those who don't know (I didn't) Zumba is a Columbian dance fitness program created by Alberto "Beto" Perez. Or that's what Wikipedia says. Zumba Gold is Zumba for seniors. Or a mature individuals. Or the older set. Or whatever the hell you want to call old people like me.
Zumba gold starts out easy, with Beto teaching a fit-looking woman he calls Yoy* merengue, salsa, and other latin dance. I won't hazard guessing Yoy's age, since guessing incorrectly is grounds for assault in some states, but Yoy's probably not going to be asked for her ID whether buying liquor or trying to get a senior discount.
Anyway, there I am with Beto and Yoy, practicing my moves for ten or twenty minutes every couple of days, gradually moving from spastic, through incompetent, to awkward. Each time I do a lesson I can see more clearly how Beto's body moves. I can't quite do what he does, but I feel like I'm starting to get the idea.
After I had read The Brain That Changes Itself, which I wrote about in this post, I'd made double-damn sure to avoid walking down the road to physical and cognitive decline with the old man's shuffle. But there's more to the shuffle than talking small steps with feet apart. But I forgot about the rest of the old-man's walk. Like the old-man's stiff back. And the old man's tight hips. The old man's feet may be together, but there's not much bounce in the walk.
All that changes when you practice dancing with Beto and Yoy. The dance steps didn't seem challenging apart from the coordination required, but I found that I was straining muscles that I'd forgotten that I'd had, and even a muscles that I never knew existed. In the dances Beto taught, every part of your body is supposed to move in different directions than adjacent parts, and sometimes at different tempos.
Then last night I got it. Or my body did. I had the same feeling years ago when I studied Tae Kwan Do and suddenly understood how to SNAP a punch instead of just throwing one. When you snap a punch, or block or kick, every part of your body works together. Your fist is the point of impact, and your arm is what connects your first to your body, but the punch comes from your gut, from your legs, from your hips, your back, your neck, even your other arm gets involved. WHAM!
Dancing Beto's way, instead of of all my body parts uniting for one moment of contact, they move independently, but in harmony.
I got better throwing punches, eventually good enough to injure myself by snapping a punch after I hadn't practiced for about a year.
That lesson learned, I'm taking my dancing slow and easy, getting better, and looking forward to going dancing with my three favorite daughters.
*And yes, dammit, I do know her name is Joy.
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