
About a year-and-a-half ago, I was frantically finishing a version of my big book about Cordelia (with its chameleon titles), and agent A. who "loved" it, suddenly wanted an e-mail version of the 800 page manuscript.
I use Word Perfect, not Microsoft Word. The processes are different. It meant I had to fix 22 elements, fonts, line spacing, margins, headers (and proof read the manuscript again). Did it in three days, during which I ate snacks in my office, didn't do any of my exercise routines, took naps on the cot in the studio. Agent A got the e-mail manuscript; and I got -- well, I resumed my usual warm ups, and tried to do my dance -- the aches I got were incapacitating.
Since then, inch by inch, stretch by stretch, I've been pushing myself back to where I was. What happened? Three days off hurt me? Burning the candle at both ends hurt me? I don't know what did it. But same as the 22 elements that had to be fixed in word processing, there's a whole lot of fixing I've had to do.
No, I didn't go to the Doc. I know more about my muscles, ligaments, bones than any doctor I'd consult; I've seen the X-rays. I knew from the symptoms, and a recent blood test that there was nothing to be learned from more X-rays or a blood

Want to know more? Look up "dancing" in the list of labels on the right. I've described various aches and pains and how I cure them. It's not boring to read, but boring do. It's taken months to get back strengths that I lost. Instead of straining, struggling, I change my warm-ups, and change the choreography of the daily dance I do to Ralph Vaughn William's "Fantasia."
Here's where I'm at: Whether it is the slipperiness of the floor, or my lessening technique, no longer can I do double pirouettes reliably. Privately deciding to hell with it, sometimes I do a double; sometim

Not anymore. Not since those three days.

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