The first pole dancing videos I had seen on YouTube was of TaraKarina, the Vertical Ballerina. I remember being shocked to discover that she practiced 9 hours per day. As I took a closer look at her information, I realized that she was in her early twenties at the time, and that she was using pole dancing as therapy for her agoraphobia. I justified that I couldn’t possibly devout more than a 1 hour class per week, due to my husband, my toddler, teaching Gyrotonic and Gyrokinesis, as well as ordinary day-to-day household stuff. I protested that I was very, very busy, but the major factor that prevented me from swinging around the pole for hours on end, was the fact that I was fast approaching the big 4-0, and my body simply wouldn’t allow me to do so.
For my age, physically I was in moderate shape. Before my pregnancy, I had a strict and demanding yoga practice. Three days after learning I was already 9.5 weeks pregnant, I was in a scooter crash that left me bed-ridden for several weeks. The baby was fine, but I was going mental. I had gone from daily Mysore practice and teaching 3-5 yoga classes a day, to laying still and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathons. I recovered, but never had the opportunity to regain all my strength back. So when I began pole dancing, I was not at the peak of fitness and my endurance was extremely low.
There is a tremendous excitement in learning anything new, and pole dancing is no exception. Many self-taught pole dancers tend to rush into learning new tricks, as there is no one there to stop them or correct them. I was fortunate enough to have a pole studio nearby and their curriculum only allowed for 3-4 spins per week. When we moved and I started at a different studio in a whole different part of the country, the instructor who taught the one class I could regularly attend saw that I had solid fundamentals, was fairly flexible, and was light enough to invert easily. She excitedly began showing me how to flip up, and unfortunately, her teaching relied heavily upon repetition. I don’t think she once asked me my age, but later on, I figured out that she was at least a decade younger than I was. She meant well, but I suffered my first injury with her that lingered for almost 4 ridiculously long months. I kicked myself for being so stupid. I had previous completed a certification in beginning pole dance and I used to regularly remind my yoga students to always listen to their own bodies, not push too hard, and to leave any ego at the door. I was properly chastised and hung my head in shame.
I switched to another studio, a little wiser, a little older, and a lot more cautious in my body. I took a lot of beginner level classes because they gave me a chance to heal, as well as develop my strength in a regimented way. Most of the other students were around college-aged, and because they were young and unburdened with injury, they eagerly devoured new trick after new trick. They never had the need to warm up, nor did they ever learn the actual technique of a move, but rather the gross instruction of how to get into it. I winced every time I saw one of these girls fling themselves into an inversion and kept waiting for a cry of pain that never happened. I was amazed. It was the raw power of youth that protected them from getting hurt. Was I perhaps more than a bit jealous? Oh yes! I would fondly reminisce about the “good old days, twenty years ago”, when I could do those kinds of gymnastics without a second thought. (Or when it didn’t take 3 full days to recover from 1 evening of drinking…) But I was also grateful for where I was in my life, in the use of my body as an expression of dance. I clearly saw the distinction between how I did a fireman spin, for example, and how a younger girl did hers. I was building technique whereas she was impatiently waiting to perform the next trick.
There is an integrity that exists now in my almost 43-year-old body, due to the safe progression I’ve exposed it to while learning how to pole dance. My dancing is slow, controlled, and well…mature. I know which muscles to engage and which to relax. I’ve experienced enough in my life to know to use the grace and power in an arm gesture to tell a story, rather than rely on the wow-factor of a big, splashy trick. I no longer suffer the big injuries that come with improper technique, but do occasionally become afflicted with the little injuries that happen when one gets older. These I accept as nature, instead of something I've tried to do against nature. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t watch a fantastic pole video starring a phenomenal 20-something year old and feel the dull slap of envy. When I was younger, I would probably have desperately wished to have been her. Nowadays I'm pretty happy with how I am, but I do wish I had her ability/agility. I am not afraid to tackle the advanced tricks--I'm just prepared that it will take me a lot longer to nail them.
Right now I am struggling with the Plus Sign, a move that my 19-year-old friend performs with stunning ease and a lightening bolt of pizzazz. I’m taking my time with this one and I’m fine with that. I don’t care whether I get it tomorrow or by the time I’m 48. I have no time limit or expiration date.
