Treadmill Dancing

I've never been much of a dancer. I took several years of ballet and tap back when I was under 10 years old, but I'm not sure any of that actually stuck. I did the obligatory cotillion when I was in junior high, and I could probably work my way around a waltz if someone put a gun to my head.  But the very idea of voluntarily dancing - club dancing, fast dancing, line dancing, country dancing, whatever - is something I avoid unless I'm in an 'altered' state. And even then, it has to be a VERY altered state. The kind of altered state brings on a wicked hangover the next day.  I tend to avoid those states these days, so as you can imagine, my dancing is very limited.

I have several friends who love to go dancing, and I simply cannot fathom that.  My body just does not have that kind of rhythm, nor am I ever able to shake the self consciousness I feel when I attempt (and believe me, it is usually a lame attempt) to dance.  For that reason, the urge to dance?  Just does not hit me.

There is, however, one strange exception - when I run.  I got in a 3 miler last night for the first time in over two weeks, and it was absolutely fantastic.  I ran it waayyy too fast for having been sedentary for the last several days, but it felt so good to move.  I got on a treadmill at L's gym, cranked up the music, tuned out the world, turned off my brain, and set my legs loose.  Bliss.  If I could have danced on that treadmill, I would have - at least with that kind of dancing, my legs know exactly what they are supposed to be doing! 

Every now and then, I'll have several minutes of absolute and complete joy in a run (or in whatever exercise I'm doing at the time).  It's more likely on the first run back after a break, and last night was one of those awesome runs.  Maybe it's euphoria, maybe it's endorphins, maybe it's just my brain thanking me for a damn break, or my body thanking me for the exercise, but when those moments hit - I could dance down the street if I wasn't absolutely sure I'd look fresh out of the loony bin. 

As it was, last night I just cranked up the speed on the treadmill and tried not to look too insanely happy.  After all, a good number of people don't look at exercise in quite that manner - and I'm fairly certain I'd get a number of dirty looks if folks could read my mind.  I guess in the grand scheme of things, dancing during a run is probably a hell of a lot better than dancing in an altered state.  Although to some extent, the result is still the same, 'cause today?  I kinda hurt. 

Totally worth it.