|New elastic on old zills|
Photo shows pale fingers with plain brass finger cymbals (zills) strapped on with white elastic.
I was feeling pretty ok yesterday, which for me means that my pain level was around a 5 or 6 according to the pain tracker I use on my iPhone. My brain was a bit squirrely, so I figured a good trio of dance classes would be pretty ok based on how I was doing (I was still in enough pain that trying to read or write was going to be difficult, but dancing....that I felt like I could do). So I headed for the studio for the ATS levels 1 & 2 classes, with the possibility of my usual 8:15pm class to round it out.
The first class went fine. I knew that doing bodywaves would be hard on my spine, so I did less of them. I stood back sometimes and watched (because mental rehearsal is still part of rehearsing!) and sometimes I would hold the wall for support. I felt ok (thanks in part to pain medication taken before class), so I decided to stay for the next class.
ATS level 2 went really well, but I didn't have the chance to stand back to rest and take in information like I did in the first class. I was having fun with a pair of zills that a classmate let me use (these beautiful Saroyan Afghani zills that I didn't think I would be able to play because of the size...but I used them the whole time! She also showed me an awesome zill elastic trick using hair ties). I was sweaty and happy, but trying to ignore that my spine was getting tired.
I stayed for the last class just because I wanted to...I knew my spine was getting tired, but Melissa is cool with me modifying anything I need to modify. Instead of drilling, we've been working on musicality in fusion bellydance (shared vocabulary between cabaret and tribal styles using different accents or register). It didn't take long for me to need to use the wall for support, or to squat while listening. Towards the end of the class, my cyborg bits were just done and I sat on the floor for the last bit (but still danced).
When I got home, my body just started shutting me down. First with wicked exhaustion, then with my right glute squeezing the nerve so hard that I couldn't put weight on it. My partner had to help me get to and from the bathroom because it felt like I was being stabbed with a screwdriver in my rear.
It's taken me a few days to get that irritated nerve calmed down to the point that I'm not limping and wincing as badly. I think the lesson is that three classes back-to-back, no matter how well I feel that day, is just too much for this aging gimpy body, at least for the foreseeable future.