My New Year resolution was to pick up an exercise habit. Come on, I’m in my 40s, the phase where female hormones go completely rogue. If I don’t move my body today, tomorrow will definitely make me pay. (This is my everyday monologue to convince my lazy bum.)
On paper, it sounded great. Noble even. In reality, I know myself far too well. And I have years of behavioural data proving that my truest intent is to sleep more and play merry. As they say, the wolf that wins is the one you feed and I usually feed the one that’s lying comfortably on the couch. To satisfy my ego, I generally keep a book beside me and read.
Let me demystify this further (as if it’s some profound mystery):
I hate gym. Every bit of it. The smell, the vibe, all of it.
I do like Sivananda yoga. It’s slow, gentle rhythm suits me more. I’ve done it on and off for years. But here’s the brutal truth: it doesn’t suit my body. My body is not a yoga body. Its unapologetically stiff.
James Clear says if you want a habit to stick, make it easy and interesting. Hmmm… how about dance? It fits the criteria, at least.
#TBH, I’ve always loved dancing, and I’m good at it. When I say good, trust me, I’m awesome. There isn’t a family wedding where I haven’t danced. People attend marriages for different reasons — social obligation, dressing up and showing off, or eating the large platter available at Indian weddings. I attend marriages for dance. I keep an eye on the dance floor, and the moment there are a few people there, I hit it. Most of the time, my family has to wait for me to finish dancing so we can finally go home. What can I do if people start dancing late?
So by that logic, dance-as-exercise should totally stick. Or so I thought.
I found the nearest dance studio and enrolled myself in the first week of January. I entered the class and immediately realised I was surrounded by twenty-year-olds which means almost my 18-year-old daughter’s age. Okay… breathe deep… relax…I can do this.
The dance itself was great. I liked the music, I enjoyed the choreography. What wasn’t cooperating was my body. FYI, I had just emerged from a three-month slumber where my body had barely moved. Didn’t I tell you I love snuggling into warm blankets and hibernating in winter? It took a few classes for my body to wake up, but thankfully there was no groaning pain, something I had experienced earlier whenever I had joined gym or yoga after a long gap. So far, so good.
Just when my body began cooperating, the real challenge showed up: my personality.
I can dance, remember? But when the teacher says, “Use your right foot with your left hand and jump left,” my body freezes while the entire class glides effortlessly. My natural wiring is left foot, right hand. So my body takes extra time to process instructions, execute them, and by the time it does… the class has already moved on to the third line.
Suddenly, I was transported back to school, where teachers would circle my definitions because I could never rote-memorise and reproduce the exact ones from the book. Ah! Why can’t I conform? Why can’t I just follow steps as told? This question has haunted me all my life. Not again, please. Not here!
At home, my family imagines me dancing to glory (shhh… don’t tell them). In reality, I’m struggling to multitask at an Olympian level which includes remembering steps, coordinating stubborn hands and feet, tracking lyrics, counting beats, keeping up with the pace of the song, and figuring out the next steps. And that too, all at once. Phew! No one had warned me about the cognitive load dancing can be.
Then came the bouncer choreography. The group decided to learn choreography to the latest song. Perfect. I hadn’t even heard it. And just to make things worse, the song was lightning fast. The class was singing along, dancing flawlessly, matching every beat. When we practised slowly, I could still manage. The moment the music started? Game over. By the end of the class, I stood there, hiding my tears, wondering how on earth I’d get through this. All I wanted was this one hour to be fun…
It’s been 25 days now, and here’s what I’m learning about myself:
- Doing something on your own and learning it in a structured way are two completely different ball games.
- The body and mind follow a natural rhythm. Challenge it, and one feels thrown off balance because we’re deeply used to moving and thinking in familiar patterns. Maybe it’s time to break them and build new neural pathways.
- I don’t like standing at the back, even when I’m the worst performer in class. I’m always in the front. Front bencher for life!
- Few days ago, I was boasting to people around me that I’m not competitive; instead, I’m a flow person. Twenty-five days in, and the truth has flipped. The new declaration is this: I’m a flow person who wants to win at whatever I commit to. Hello again, competitive side.
- Learning something new demands absolute focus. During class, I’m so locked onto the teacher’s reflection in the mirror that I sometimes forget to breathe. For an hour, I’m in a thoughtless state. Even writing this feels good.
- Mirror, mirror on the wall. I’m not used to looking at these wall-mounted mirrors everywhere. They magnify my flaws for me (like how bad my dance steps are). They brutally show me as an ugly duckling in this amazing group of smart, young, beautiful, sexy girls. The moment I watch myself dance, I forget the steps. I’ll get used to it with time. At least, I hope so.
- These amazing twenty-year-olds inspire me endlessly. I watch them in awe, their swag, carefree cool moves, and the ease with which they dance. I envy them deeply and wish I had joined a dance studio back in college, when I knew all the lyrics, beats, and hook steps. I would have killed it!
I’m not enjoying dancing just yet. Right now, it feels more like conformity where I am constantly struggling and challenging my natural rhythm. Maybe this discomfort, awkwardness, and resistance are also part of the choreography. And maybe learning to stay on beat with life takes more practice than I had thought.
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