Rising

Lately I've been doing daily stretch and strengthen exercises, mostly cobbled from dance classes over the years... my favourite and most influential teacher was always on the cutting edge of strength and conditioning programs to keep her dancers safe. She regularly set aside 15-30 minutes either at the beginning or the end of each class for strengthening exercises.

I had made many of these stretches part of my daily routine for several years in college, however, when I moved back to Alberta, depressed and thoroughly burnt out, everything went out the window except laying in bed until the afternoon sun covered me as well as the blankets. Then came the major life change called marriage (nobody tells you how STRESSFUL that is) and my first full-time job since before college, both of which sapped my energy and motivation to do literally anything. It was all I could do to go to work, make it through the day, and stagger back home and stare blankly at the television screen or my phone until bedtime.

Lately I've had some motivation returning, and I decided to bring back my daily stretches. This was also partly out of necessity, as my ankle is very angry at being made to stand on a concrete floor for 32 hours a week, no matter HOW good my shoes are, and is requiring either physio or total bedrest. Obviously physio is the option that keeps the bills paid, and many of the exercises that the doctor gave me are exactly the same ones that my dance teacher made us do years ago in class. This, then, leads quite naturally into the re-instation of a daily stretching program.

The most basic and most effective ankle strengthening exercise (as far as I know) is what we in ballet class call the rise. Rises on two feet and rises on one foot could take up as much as 45 minutes of class time -- different amounts, different combinations, different speeds. Students from our school were known locally for their incredible strength and confidence en pointe simply because we had so much ankle training in class. Once I fell off pointe (at a different school, after this one), and while I nearly broke my wrist, my ankles were completely unscathed (well, maybe not completely, otherwise I wouldn't need the physio now).

Rises, then, are the core of my strengthening exercises. I have sort of accidentally claimed a specific spot by the big picture window in the living room as the spot to do my exercises. On my days off, I typically do my exercises in the morning, so then the late morning winter light lies pale along the snow-lined road, reminding me of more carefree days gone by... the days when I would go to morning dance classes and do rises in classes with M, my sister, and other friends with whom I've more or less lost touch, with the calm, caring spirit of my teacher filling the room.

I would give almost anything in the world to have those days back. Of course I savoured them as much as I could while I was there -- knowing even at that young age how fleeting life is -- but I still somehow thought that it would never end, at least not completely. I thought that M would live a good long life and that my friends would stay in touch and that that school would continue turning out well-trained and deeply nurtured students for generations and that no matter how far away I traveled or for how long, I would always have a place at the barre in the sunlight.

Doing rises in front of that picture window takes me back to those days in the tiniest of ways -- strongly enough to bring tears to my eyes, but never strongly enough to be real. It breaks my heart every morning when I do rises, but I would rather remember those days than forget them. All I can do now is carry M and the spirit of my teacher and the school she gave to us for that short time in my heart and keep doing the rises that keep us connected.