Rach vz. Zumba

I am not a good dancer. In fact, I am a terrible dancer. As much as I would love to be lithe and graceful, I am a back-row-of-the-chorus-embarrassment-at-weddings-so-clumsy-that-even-my-boyfriends-don't-want-to-dance-with-me kind of girl. It's not that I lack rhythm; I just lack the je ne sais quoi that allows my body to fall in synch with it.

Yet, I keep trying. God only knows why.

Tonight, after a long hiatus of classes, my gym offered Zumba, a Latin-dance-aerobics fusion meant to whittle an unsuspecting body into tip-top shape. I had a daily run to do, but I also needed a break in routine and so I decided to go for it. After a quick three miles on the treadmill, I headed to the workout room to give Zumba a try.

It wasn't that bad. I mean, I'm clumsy as hell but I have enough years of Show Choir and failed dance auditions/salsa and swing dates (see above for significant others who gave up on me) to know how to handle my two left feet. I pushed them. I focused intently, watched the instructor's feet and my own in the mirror and I did okay. I'm better with my arms, I think; my upper body seems always to be in the right place while my feet lag behind. Even the instructor said I was getting 80 % of the steps. That's not enough for Broadway but it IS enough for a first class--or at least, it should be.

But I am a perfectionist.

If I miss a step, I get mad. If I lag behind, I get mad. If I'm tired, I get mad. You get the idea. So, apart from learning the ropes of a new fitness craze, I spent the evening confronting walls--the same ones that haunt me in my training, and admittedly, in my life.

1) How can I push on when I'm frustrated/exhausted and every inch of me wants to quit?

2) How can I be satisfied with my progress rather than burdened (constantly) by the pursuit of perfection?

Theses are the  simple, unsatisfying answers:

1) Just keep moving.

2) One step at a time.

There has to be more. If these plaguing questions were so easy to answer, I would never have carried them this far into my life. 

With regard to the first, I'm slowly realizing that quitting just isn't an option. Especially not when I've made a commitment to a goal, a cause or a person. I'm not wired to walk away. As usual, there was a critical moment tonight, somewhere between a shimmy and a meringue (the dance, not the pie) where I was ready to walk out the door. We had a water break; I wanted to go for it. But I couldn't. So, I went back and salsa-ed with the best of 'em. I sucked, but I went back. And afterwards, when I was ready to collapse in to a sweaty, sleepy heap on the floor, I ran three miles (to complete my six for the day). I wanted to know what it felt like to run--even for a little while--LONG LONG after my body caved from exhaustion. I wanted to hold out, to push hard, push through for a little bit longer because, I think, things are always better on the other side. When it comes to the end of the line, I keep telling myself two things:

"Life is all about dedication and commitment."

"Lazyness is the act of giving up before you're tired."

I was tired alright. and I'm pretty sure that the marathon will require much more, that the exhaustion/pain combo will be much worse, but I'm also pretty sure that after exhaustion will come strength. I just have to hold on until then.

Which brings me to quandary number two, otherwise known as "how not to get pissed at myself". Perfectionism is equally one of my biggest faults and greatest strengths. The desire to be and do more, to be not just a better version of myself but the best drives me to do crazy things: move to foreign countries, enter grad school, run a marathon, learn to dance. Everything I do has the potential to go very very badly or to morph me into a stronger human being. 

Each new adventure in my life is an act of hubris against myself. 

The problem is that at the start, I am equally aware that I might fail (or am failing already as was the case with dancing and running) as I am tempted by the allure of success, the idea of being the kind of person who: writes books, lives in Paris, dates diplomats*, runs marathons. And then, I am immediately infuriated by my inability to have and do all of these things NOW. (or, more precisely, YESTERDAY!) I have no patience for my two left feet or SLOW split times. I want to be talented and graceful just because I attempt it. No such luck.

I am not kind to myself. When I find that I'm failing, I have two recourses: laughter or tears and much as it pains me to admit it, I usually succumb to the latter. I am NOT a "just enjoy the journey" kind of person. I like plane rides immensely, but apart from those, I like destinations; I thrive on results. And, I find it hard to let myself grow into things. I want to just have them in hand. So, the second question remains unanswered.

Even Zumba, it seems  isn't really about fitness or learning to dance (Okay, it is a little about my abs and my desire to be a wallflower-turned-ballerina) rather, it's an agonizing quest for discipline, patience and tolerance (with myself).

I guess I have to keep showing up. (I know, I know, that's half the battle). The other battle is just with me.

Dear Discipline

I have a bone--or several--to pick with you. First, I  loathe rest days--they make me restless. On the days when I don't run, my body is grateful for the break and I am happy to be able to stretch, relax and be productive in other areas of my life. The problem is, I'm not productive.

Today was not supposed to be a rest day--I had 3 miles on the calendar--but I was so unexpectedly wiped from yesterday's run that I knew I needed to take today off and get back into my rhythm tomorrow. So, today is hard partly because I feel lazy and partly because I am so anxious to run, so excited to train and eager to improve. I like what running does for my body and I love what it does for my mental focus and emotional strength. Without it as part of my day, I feel lost.

 My friend Lynn says that there's no problem in the world that can't be solved with a good 10k run--unless it takes a marathon. I think she's right and I'm starting to believe that running is good for me because it forces me to focus on what's going on in my life and to DEAL with it rather than pushing it aside, waiting for problems to go away. At the same time, while pounding into the pavement, I'm gaining distance and perspective, without actually escaping. So far in my life, running is the best ( and the cheapest) form of running away. Hopefully, on a good day, I come back with a clear head. On a bad day, it's another story, a rest day too.

Part of gaining discipline, it seems, is learning when it's okay to rest and to appreciate stillness. I've never been good at such things; I lack patience altogether, especially with myself. I hate living in the country; I hate quiet; I am a devoted student who still can't attend classes without doodling incessantly; I'm terrible at waiting in line. I have no appreciation for slow development or growth. Thus, running is problematic. Truth be told, I want to be an elite runner. I would love to cross the marathon finish in two hours flat to the resounding fanfare of media and crowds. But I never will. I'm a middle-of-the-pack long distance runner who is trying hard to train for her first two-digit run and race. Yet, I want to be able to do it tomorrow and feel lazy for not accomplishing it today. Worst of all, today, I did NOTHING to gain proximity to my goal and it makes me antsy and irritable.

In short--rest days suck. And I don't know what to do about it.

When it comes to work ethic and discipline, I am a double-sided coin. I am both devoted and driven, committed and conscientious and lazy as hell. Somewhere in college, I learned to be the queen of procrastination and have been fighting it off ever since. Like most people, these extremes of productivity are mediated by desire; the more I want and believe in something, the more I will be fully committed to success. Be it a goal, a relationship or a task, I'm "all in" for as long as it takes--no matter what. But, if I fail to engage in something , or sometimes in the early stages, if I feel resistance or doubt, I want to throw in the towel, throw up my hands and walk away. This strategy is useless-- built on fear and self-preservation. More than I want to succeed at times, I am afraid to fail. But failing to try gets you nowhere.

I've also been burned by this faulty strategy more times than I 'd like to admit. But, the few times when I've had the courage to commit, to not procrastinate, berate or worry, the outcome has been worth it.

So it goes with running. I'm all in. I just need to stay there.

I'll keep training and running because I know my heart is in it AND I can do it. I just hate being tested every time I'm asked to slow down. Surely, when my training is actually hard and my runs are actually long, I'll come to appreciate the lack of pain and frustration in stillness. I'll be so tired yet so accomplished that I will be able to rest.

For now: 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep. 

 

~from " Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost