Friday, 17 March 2017

Shim Sham Shimmy...

Yesterday morning, I woke up hurting from the waist down.  Turning to the husband, I said to him that I felt like I'd been in the gym all night, possibly doing one of those fake 'Row the English Channel' challenges which gyms do with an Ergo and a stopwatch.  Turns out he felt the same. As we minced around getting ready for work, thoughts went back to the previous night's Swing Club.  To be honest, six weeks in, I think we are both throwing ourselves into it with a tad more gusto now, so it's bound to hurt more than it did.  Mind you, whenever a new person turns up and asks me how long we've being coming, I always say 'Oh, just a couple of weeks', so that their expectations of what we can do aren't too high. 

On Wednesday night, the husband and I stayed for the second section of Swing Club which involves learning a series of complicated steps and putting them altogether into a routine.  I can already see you shaking your heads and wondering what on earth we are thinking of, but because you dance in rows, any mistakes can be hidden if you position yourself correctly.  There is one rather rotund gentleman who I am rather fond of standing behind when we do this...

We are learning the 'Shim-Sham', a 1920's tap routine which was popular in the Cotton Club. As you can imagine, my beloved suede bottomed dance shoes tend to do more of a sshhhh noise than a resounding tap, but the noise my knee joints make when I do the steps more than compensates.  There have even been a couple of occasions when my knees have been heard over the music.  So between the Suzi Q's, the Shortie Georges and the Fishtails, we are learning lots of new things each week.  Who said you can't teach an old dog new tricks...

Talking of learning something new, daughter number one, a qualified PE teacher, gave me a swimming lesson last week from the safety of the sofa.  I had raised the question as to whether I was doing it right in the pool, after being lapped by a couple of pensioners last week.  

Well, it would appear not, so suitably instructed, I headed to the pool with Mrs S last night full of positivity as to the improvements which were going to be apparent once I set off.  I practiced in the shallow end, just in case the new arm technique was a complete failure, and then set off down the deep end.  There are times, and this was one of them, when I wonder whether I have some male DNA in me, as I can struggle to do two things at once sometimes.  

While I was concentrating on the arms (straight, bend at the elbow, bring hands up as though you were drinking, then shoot out again) my legs, realising that my concentration was elsewhere, just did their own thing, resulting in some serious sputtering and bad lane discipline.  I persevered though, and after another ten laps or so, I managed to bring the whole thing together.  I can't say that I was massively quicker, or that I was less knackered, but it was encouraging knowing that I was doing it properly.

But what it did bring was a 10% increase in the number of lengths.

Result....



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