Just Dance

Yesterday, I really felt like dancing. So I did. In my home office, in my kitchen, with my younger daughter, with my embarrassed older daughter staring at me, while I was making dinner, even when the kids told me to turn it down. Dang, it felt good.

Today, I’m back in the office cube farm. I have a standing station and it’s very conducive to dancing because, well, I’m standing. I occasionally look over my shoulder to see if anyone is approaching – after all, I can’t hear them because I have my ear buds on. But I’m still dancing. It’s been so long.

In college I used to dance almost every weekend with a few friends. We would forego the drunk, smelly, frat house beer parties and head to the clubs instead to literally dance the night away. I also worked at a dance studio so I could take classes for free. Such a great outlet for many things.

Then years later I married my soul mate. And he’s just not the dancing kind. *sigh* But it’s okay. I took belly dancing and salsa classes, and occasionally I get to dance with him at weddings.

As I got older, I also started to become more self conscious. Do I look like a foolish old lady dancing? Man, do I look like that? Can I still dance? Then I started moving less and less. My music choices also ventured away from the dance/club/hip hop genre, and more to what my husband and friends listen to. Toe tapping, body swaying yes, booty shaking, no.

Then I stopped dancing. Silly me.

Last week, I desperately needed to refresh my running playlist – I needed new material to pump me up for an upcoming 10 mile race, plus I want a cruisin’ companion when I train for a half marathon coming up next month. Then my friend John lent me his iPod, and that’s when it started again. This dancing thing. The kind that makes you close your eyes and just be free. I gave iTunes some of my paycheck to load up my new playlist, and I haven’t stopped wanting to move.

So when I run this weekend in one of the most scenic races ever, I may do more than run. Because all I want to do now, is dance.


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