Adult beginner
Once I hit my 30s, complaints about the signs of encroaching old age were no longer half-jokes. The chronic back pain, the stiff joints—it all became too real. Among the fitness goals I had set back when I thought there was still time and energy left to dedicate to them, those that I’ve failed to achieve start to look like impossible dreams. Plus, whatever I believe to be the limitations of my body, solidified through years of repeating them like a refrain from a Top 40 earworm—“I’m not genetically predisposed to develop abs, I’m not flexible”—feel like immutable facts.
Taking ballet classes at 35 didn’t magically unravel any of these, but it did jolt me out of what I had thought was an already good understanding of my own body. Eight months in, ballet is still as difficult as I had expected it to be—and my progress happens at a glacial pace—but within that difficulty is a lesson on how I should trust my body more and give it more credit than what I used to.
A still from a rehearsal video back in May 2018.
It’s not a totally new sensation: Ages ago, I felt a similar kind of wonder three years into a semi-rigorous Vinyasa yoga practice. But something about how physically demanding ballet is makes it easier for me to leave my ego and most of my preconceptions outside the studio door. The discipline that it requires from me still gets me anxious before every class, but I manage it by trusting that I’d get the necessary corrections from my teacher whenever I need them (and I need them a lot). All I have to do is to listen, follow, and push myself to do my best.
I go to adult ballet class thrice a week at The Lisa Macuja School of Ballet Manila. Not only does that make my classes legit, it also comes with the pedigree that I’m being taught the notoriously rigorous Vaganova method at the only Filipino ballet school with official ties to the Russian Ballet Academy. I’m pointing out these details to drive home the point that on top of ballet already being intimidating as it is, the training I’m getting isn’t exactly for folks who have low ambitions and expectations for themselves—no offense to people who love the lowest common denominator stuff like Zumba.
Now, I have no dreams or illusions of becoming a professional ballet dancer; that horse has long left the stable and is now at the glue factory. But when you’re at an age where you rightfully feel that you’ve seen, done, and undergone your fair share of shit, both good and bad, it’s nice to get swept up into something that’s not just new but also challenging enough to keep you interested and motivated. In fact, I got interested in ballet to such a level that I said, “Sure, why not?” when the opportunity to join a dance recital came twice.
Post-recital number two when I was at my thinnest—at least in recent memory (and in a swan costume made for an obviously smaller person)—after a summer of daily rehearsals and two-hour-long classes.
The reward comes from seeing my incremental improvement in, like, how high my arabesque and developpés can go now (still not high enough), how physically and mentally stronger my practice has made me, and the basic fact that I’m learning ballet at my age. And unlike before, when the main motivation for doing boxing, strength training, Pilates, yoga, and jazz and hip-hop dancing was to keep skinny, I’m now pretty okay with just letting my body get stronger and more capable, regardless of what shape that takes. If my legs and thighs bulk up, then I’ll take them over skinny, weakass muscles. (For what it’s worth, I’ve gone down one pants size.) My body feels like the body of a 35-year-old. It’s not immune from the literal pains of aging, but it isn’t so far removed from the possibilities of what else it could do either. I like it, I like living in it, and that’s quite a gift.
A version of this piece was published on the GMA Network Lifestyle website in June 2018.