...though covered with miscellaneous injuries and the such. I've come out of our ballet's mandatory four weeks of intensive summer training none the worse. However, following five hours of ballet for five days per week for four weeks, I have managed a bruised hip (actually from a fishing trip where I fell in the river but...), a pulled knee (...??), a sprained...metatarsal? (or something), and several bruises (resulting from pointe class of course). And so I just wanted to share with you that though I have been MIA for quite a while, I have indeed managed to live till the end. Aren't you proud of me, too?
However, buried within that proud accomplishment, I have also felt the need to reveal that today was not all that it should have been. Natural to gain injuries as these long weeks had worn on, I only wonder why this week was the week they chose to spring. All at the same time. I dealt with them as best I could, but today it was just nearly impossible to dance. Throughout the agonizing pain, I frequently found myself wondering if the teacher had chosen all the worst possible combinations for my leg. But yes, I did somehow make it through the day without too mush scolding. There is the one incident that brought me down more than just a little though. During modern today, I had waited forever waiting for the teacher to allow me to demonstrate a combination, and as my luck would have it, she allowed me to demonstrate the "skip-jump" (as I call it) combination. However, I already knew from my own practicing that if I attempted it my knee would buckle under, and so I swallowed my pride, and everything else I had, and told her that my knee was hurt, and someone else should demonstrate. And so someone else did. It really isn't that big of a deal, but the pain I had to dance through in the previous classes coupled with the fact that I could no longer perfectly execute my favorite exercise lead me into a shallow pool of sadness.
Signing off, your (hopefully) beloved author.