My Dorian Gray painting is in my muscle tone

Being unable to blog usually means I'm too busy, but the good news is there's a lot of dance productivity in the busy-ness. It's only mid-February and all three shows that I've seen so far were all awesome. I'm still writing the review for Al Garcia's Sulog sa Kinabuhi, and have some thoughts down already for my review for Alden Lugnasin's Pusong Wagas, which I saw last night.

I also saw Myra Beltran's Itim Asu for the second time last Wednesday; I was not planning to write a review for this already because I had already reviewed it, and had just published a review for last year's staging by Regina Bautista, but I do want to say how it's even more impressive now because the UP Dance Company kids (who were really just kids a couple years ago when I first saw this) have matured so nicely in both performance and technique. I'm now thinking also if I want to write extensively about Itim Asu (you know, like for an academic paper or as part of my dissertation). But I will think about that first.

What I actually want to write about now is how I injured myself in ballet class early yesterday morning. I wake up at 6 to get ready for ballet class at 8am (meaning I should be warmed up by 8) and I guess it's how your muscles are when you're 37, but I seem to have the hardest time waking them up for that 8am class. I usually joke that they're only fully awake during grand allegro. Anyway, for whatever reason, during center adagio, I am resolved to complete the closing sequence flawlessly - developpe devant, bringing that leg to an a la seconde and attitude derriere as I promenade away from that leg, rising in attitude to balance, then extending the working leg as my supporting leg does a fondu, pas de bourree under and close fifth croise. Yup, it was flawless.

As I walked off the dance floor, a spasm started to crawl across my back. I stretch it out: go away ouchie! I silently laugh at myself. Then, when we go back to the floor to repeat the exercise, I can't even port de bras. My reaction is I laugh more audibly and tell my dad/ballet teacher that I'm in pain.

Why laughter? I'm laughing because I'm 37 years old. I know some 37 year olds who are still dancing at this level, but they do this class every day and make this peace with their bodies on a regular basis. I have a full-time job and only dance on the weekends and the lucky Tuesday or Thursday evening that I arrive at our Las Pinas studio in time. I try to do some limbering every morning, but not enough to strengthen my back for a promenade wherein your working leg is held up at a 100-110% angle.

So this is what it's like for your back to "give out." I am officially geriatric.

That night, in the CCP Little Theater lobby before Pusong Wagas, I was talking to Tita Bambi and Bea Perez; Tita Bambi went with PBT when we performed Darangen ni Bantugen in China to chaperone then underaged Bianca, and I've actually danced with Bea in PBT's Swan Lake. Tita Bambi asked me if I was still dancing (so long as I'm not in PBT, people assume I've stopped). I replied that I still was, and she basically said I was too young and had too much potential to stop.

It was really sweet, but I nearly broke into hysterical laughter right then, and actually tell her about how my back gave out that morning. But the irony is lost on them, not a lot of people know after all that I am 37, and that I'm only a precious few of my generation who are still dancing today.

When Madonna performed at the SuperBowl, I made a vow to myself to stop complaining about being too old to dance, because look at Lola Madge! Obviously maintenance is key! But I have to remind myself that I am prone to all sorts of body malfunctions if I still want to dance into my 40s.

This morning, at 8am ballet class, I took it easy and took special care of what I could do, stopping at moments that seemed out of my depth (hello, which is what I should be doing at this age). My back isn't hurting anymore, though with a couple sharp jabs every now and then (and at the weirdest poses too). Not looking my age is my burden, though I'm hoping it will also be a charm somehow. Pain is obviously not going to stop me from dancing, but people saying I don't look like I can still dance will probably do the trick.

And so I greet 2012 on my blog with this optimistic outlook for dance and dancing. I had a conversation just this year with an old ballet friend on FB where he says he's reinvented himself because "we can't dance forever." I didn't reply on FB but my instantaneous reaction was "Watch me." I know this kayabangan will haunt me each time a muscle or body part or three screams bloody murder, but I also know that I can't live without dance, pain and all. It seems a fair trade, all things considered.

For more on the dance scene in the Philippines (and less about me), please check out www.runthru.com.ph.