I danced from age 4 or 5 until I graduated from high school. By that time, I was dancing 20 hours a week if you count the hours I helped teach classes. For my small town studio I was a pretty good dancer, but never good enough to have even considered doing it for anything other than enjoyment.
I have dancing to thank for my relatively good balance and flexibility. Which is a good thing, since I can also thank it for the fact that the arches of my feet are shot and I just had to have back surgery in November.
But yesterday, watching my niece and all the other kids out there on stage, having fun and so proud of herself and her pretty costume, all I could remember was the thrill of the annual recital. The chaos back stage, the heavy makeup, the multiple costume changes, and the chance to show off for family and friends were all part of the fun.
On the other hand...I now have more sympathy for what my parents sat through year after year. Maybe I should say what my mother sat through, my father confessed yesterday that he and some of the other fathers always left at intermission and went to the country club for drinks!