Ten years ago, doctors told me that I had locally advanced breast cancer.
A good chance of not dying!
In the movies, doesnt the heroine rejoice at this news?
The author sitting outside the church where her local NLNL is hosted.
Doesnt she embrace her life anew, flooded with gratitude at how lucky she is?
Well, I didnt feel lucky.
I felt astonished, exhausted, and, in various ways, gypped.
I ate well, did yoga, and barely took aspirin.
I was 40 years old at the time and didnt have kids yet.
Suddenly, family planning, too, was laden with complications Id never imagined.
Go through all this and you probably wont die soon!
did not fill me with celebration.
So the prognosis that I would (probably) be spared imminent death felt less than inspiring.
Ive lost people whose initial prognoses were at least as promising as mine.
I relearn this lesson every day.
But none of this has been easy.
In addition to the unfathomable losses of friends, Ive had ongoing recurrence scares and significant treatment-related side effects.
I get a reasonably painful shot once per month.
I have multiple scans and blood draws every year.
(Its instant aging through chemistry, basically.)
All of this makes exercise physically more difficult as well as less fun than it used to be.
When I was first diagnosed, I almost never had random aches and pains.
Now, my left hip hurts on most days, and my neck is often stiff.
But I think the weight gain is my biggest exercise challengeand a new one for me.
Before my treatments, weight was something of a non-issue in my life.
Those days are gone.
Inside and out, my body seems so different than it used to be.
Classes with mirrors drive those changes homebut so does the basic feeling of my body in exercise clothes.
Am I doing enough?
Is my chance of recurrence increasing because I stopped showing up for Zumba?
These types of self-badgering questions come to my mind consistently.
Its calledNo Lights No Lycra(NLNL).
It originated in Australia in 2009 and has spread across three continents.
Its not a class; theres no teacher, no set music, and no steps to learn.
In fact, no “just watching” is allowed.
If you’re there, you have to participate.
I let the music wash over me, throw my arms up and my head back, and dance.
I shake my shoulders and twirl.
Once in a while, Ill notice later on that my face is actually sore from smiling.
Then I asked our DJ for the night, Jerry, why hes involved.
Dance like no ones watching is actually an important thing to do, he said.
It put me back in touch with my body and helped me redeem it as a joyful place.
Its even helping me to rediscover the pleasure in the other forms of exercise Id always enjoyed.
I didnt know how much I needed this until I found it.
As long as the music keeps playing, Ill be there, jumping up and downfeeling very much alive.
