An introduction

First off, a little bit about myself: I'm 25, a college graduate, and an Irish dancer in the Southern Region.  I started dancing in 2000, competitively from 2002-2006, and then quit thanks to college and life getting in the way.  I started back up again in late 2010 as an adult dancer, and despite some wobbles with injuries, I've been back since then.

So that's my story, and the present day is what's important.  Because this is about what I haven't done rather than what I've already done.

A few months ago my TCRG blindsided me with a strongly-worded suggestion that I should start studying for the TMRF.  I was floored because I hadn't really expressed this, but it's always been something in the back of my mind.  I've started assisting in the kids' ceili class and am breaking out the ceili book at random intervals to help ingrain those thirty troublesome dances into my head.

However, when I got the application form to peruse, there was a terrifying section that instructed me to summarize my dancing career and acheivements in 250 words or less.  When I brought it up to my teacher, he told me not to worry.  "We can fill in the blanks."  I couldn't help but feeling like my dancing career is ALL blanks.  I started to wobble on whether or not I was up to taking the TCRG.  "Only do whatever you're comfortable with," The Teach told me.

I realized I'm really not comfortable with what I've been doing.

It isn't that I can't pass the exam if I study, or that the examiners are really going to care that I never danced in an Oireachtas--all they're looking for is how well I know the material and how well I can teach.  I realized that it was me that was uncomfortable about that biography.  I didn't want to write "The Dancer used to be really good and qualified for prelims, but she quit before she could dance in a championship".

A while ago I opened up a fortune cookie, and although what's written on most of those silly scraps of paper are generic proverbs that are about as interesting as reading the phone book, this one grabbed me.  It said "Look for the dream that keeps coming back.  It is your destiny."  During the time I wasn't dancing, I tried to find other things I liked as much, and nothing really stuck.  I realized after a lot of stumbles that I didn't need to find something else; I just needed to dance again.  I can't leave dance; it keeps coming back.

So first off, the TMRF isn't really good enough.  I know I can do the TCRG with preparation, and if I don't, I'll be forever wondering "what if"--and that's the whole point of this exercise, to erase the "what if" scenarios.  Secondly, I know myself and I know I won't push myself to do TCRG-standard dancing without the benefit of competition.

I'm in the perfect place to do this, and it's time to stop coming up with excuses.  The Teach is the most supportive TCRG I could possibly find, and if I decide to go after this dream hard, he'll honor that decision.  I'm cross training with a great boot camp that will help me get stronger overall.  I have very little in the way of committments (no kids, not in school, steady job).  From now on, I'm committing myself to sucking for at least a year before I get any better, and that means I have to swallow my pride and just work like an animal until I improve.

In The Little Book of Inspiration for Irish Dancers (a title I'd highly recommend), Sean Connolly talks about the four-minute mile.  Before Roger Bannister broke the under-four minute barrier in 1954, doctors speculated that it was impossible and may even kill the runner.  Now there are many runners, including several high schoolers, who have run a mile under four minutes.  It isn't that we have better technology now, or better nutrition, or anything like that.  Athletes limited themselves to what they knew was possible, and Bannister moved the benchmark.  Competing in championships is my four-minute mile.  The only thing holding me back is my own attitude and expectations.

In some ways, this is one of the scariest things I've ever done, because I'm putting myself out there and this means now I need to be accountable for those dreams.  "Be realistic," says the little voice in my head, who's really saying "you can't".  I'm tired of being realistic, because it means I never try anything at all for fear of failure, or even the ugly bits on the way to success.

I couldn't get any peace about writing that bio because I have a lot of unfinished business to take care of--hence the name of the blog.  So I'm going to start competing again.  And it's going to really, really suck sometimes.  But if I keep pushing, it'll all be worth it.