I definitely got behind! Don't worry friends, I'm going to try to cover all of the March adventures that have yet to receive documentation ;)
March 1: Latin dancing with Dominique
As everyone already knows, I love going to Tuesday night dancing at the Wilk, and this time I got to go with my cousin! I got there at 7:30 for the Country Swing, and went through the Latin practice from 8:30 to 9. At about 9:10 my cousin Dominique walked in. I peered in her direction, making sure it was her. She did the same, and waved when we realized that we'd found each other. She started walking over, just as a guy came up behind me and asked if I was waiting for some other guy or if I was free to dance. I told him I was free to dance, but continued to look over towards where Dominique was. The guy caught on to that and asked me if I was sure I wasn't waiting for another guy or my date. I told him I was looking for my cousin, but "not to worry", because she was a girl. He seemed happy to hear it and whisked me onto the dance floor just as Dominique reached the spot where I had been just a second before! When I did finish dancing with my partner and went back over to where I"d last seen her she had been snatched and was dancing! We played this back and forth game for the first thirty minutes, always preoccupied with our partner and unable to talk to each other. Finally we were both free at the same time, meeting up and giving each other hugs. Her last partner, a Peruvian, said he made killer Peruvian food, and asked for both our numbers. Dominique and I seem to have a knack for getting boys to ask for our numbers at the same time ;p She then told me that I needed to teach how to do the dances, as this was her first time and guys were already snatching her up! I told her not to worry and demonstrated the two dances, Salsa and Bachata. I told her it would be easier if I danced with someone to be able to really demonstrate the basic moves and went to my Mexican friend who I often dance with. When he saw me he asked if I wanted to dance, and off we went. We were twirling and dancing across the floor when I saw someone ask Dominique to dance... so much for just watching;) That's not how things seem to work at Latin dance. We danced the rest of the night, often twirling and stepping in close proximity to the other. One of my partners was quite skilled and seemed to think the same of me, dipping me in some dramatic ways that always make me laugh. After the dance got out we caught a ride with Dominique's friend Josh, who took us back to our respective apartments. It was a blast!
March 2: Can't recall... But let's include Hyrum's poem!
Note: this kid loves honey and peanut butter, and in high dosages. Enjoy his work!
March 3: Temple trip with Jessica
I hadn't actually planned on going to the temple, as I was feeling the beginning of a cold set in, but when my visiting teacher/the person I visit as well sent me a text saying she could go with me I decided I needed to go. We got to know each other a little bit better as we walked up to the temple, and she asked me lots of running questions. That was just fine with me, and I realized that five years of Cross Country experience makes me a sort of expert regarding these things... I at least I had a lot more to say than I thought I would! The session in the temple was great, and I received a clear answer to the question I had brought. As Jessica and I were walking back she talked about some of the impressions that she had received as did I. We soon realized that our impression had been the same: we both had felt to ask for Priesthood blessings. It was great to get to know Jessica better and have a spiritual conversation together:)
March 4: Visits to the "sick one", Skyping family for Lucia's birthday!
So, the "sick" I had been feeling was indeed a cold... After going to work and taking an English test I headed home and cancelled everything I was supposed to go to, deciding that sleep was in order. However, before going to sleep I received two visits. One was from two of my awesome FHE guys, Matt and Kyle. They came in, and after we talked for a little bit they gave me a priesthood blessing. I hadn't received one since the mission actually. The spirit was certainly present as they gave me the blessing. I was touched that they had taken time out of a busy Friday to help me out and make sure I was ok. Shortly after they left I hear another knock at the door. Who is it but Dominique, with a can of soup and a small package. I let her in and she started making me lunch, grilled cheese (just a little crispy;) and noodle soup. She had also brought over the cute things she'd brought over from Chile for me, including some awesome patchwork geni pants and dangly earrings... the girl knows me too well;) We talked for a while and hung out before she left and I did fall asleep;) Later that night I also got to Skype with the family for Lucia's birthday. For one of her presents she got two large framed pictures of her with our family. She loved them, and I got a little emotional seeing them, because I know what it's like to fall in love with people in a different country, to literally have a "family" away from family, and to know that one day you're going to have to leave.
At the end of the call everyone decided to clap in my face, and that's what this documents;) Awesome family!
March 5: Temple with Dominique and wardies, Tucanos with the Adams, double date and the dance with Emily/Sage/Ale/Tamara!
I decided I was feeling a little bit better and that it was temple time :) (in two senses, as my cousin's last name is Temple;). However, as I was getting ready I couldn't find my ID card, which is they key to get in and out of my house. Clearly disturbed, I looked everywhere for it. As I looked I said a prayer that I would find it, but it didn't seem to be working. Just as it was getting time to meet up with the ward members who were going and as my cousin Dominique, unbeknownst to me, was about to knock on the door, I felt prompted to look in my laundry basket. I had doubts, but followed the feeling, my fingers closing around the card as I heard a knock at the door. Eyes wide with the perfection of God's timing, I went out to meet my cousin and we all walked up to the temple. It was something little, and it didn't really matter, but God had heard that prayer. How interesting that He had waited until I was almost out of hope and time. This makes me wonder if He works in the same way with big questions I have. If so, I only have to have faith that when He wants me to find the answer that I will, and once again will marvel at the perfection of God's timing.
While we were walking up to the temple Jessica told me that she had received a blessing from going to the temple with me on Thursday. She had talked about wanting to work at the MTC and how she had applied to teach Polish, but how she hadn't heard back from them. She told me on our walk that she had gotten a call from the MTC shortly after our return from the temple about the job. This was a second testimony to me of the beauty and perfection of God's timing! I was also so thankful that I had decided to go on Thursday, despite feeling sick. That I had made the decision before to start going twice a week to the temple. I know that part of the reason for that was for this experience to happen.
The actual session was wonderful, especially being able to go through with my cousin for the first time. After getting out of the temple we all had lunch, which consisted of yummy things like a chocolate muffin Dominique and I split ;)
I thought that the day had already been pretty eventful, but this was only the beginning! After Dominique went off to work I went up to my apartment to study. As I was doing so I got a call from Arien, Sage's mom, asking me if I wanted to go with them and Ale and her mom (an old Texas friend) to Tucano's a Brazilian restaurant. Never one to turn down Latin food, she picked me up about ten minutes later and off we went! The restaurant was very unique. Guys would come by every two minutes or so with a stick of meat and ask us if we wanted anything. I think I enjoyed the cantaloupe from the salad and fruit bar the most;), but the meat was delicious!
After enjoying the delicacies of American Brazilian grill they dropped me back off at my place, where I continued my English reading until I received a text from Ale that read "we'll be there to come get you in a few minutes!" I was pretty confused, as I knew they would be giving me a ride to a dance later that night around 9, and it was only 5. I asked why they would be coming to get me, to which she responded that I was coming on the double date right? I had heard that they would be going on one, but didn't know that I was included in such. So about ten minutes later I was off again, this time in jeans to go on a double date with Sage and Ale. It was a scavenger hunt/see how many crazy jobs you can accomplish on and around BYU campus. We yodeled in public, planked, and dug up and replanted a "plant" aka weed in front of a fast food taco restaurant. A lady leaving the building gave us several weird looks as she walked away. We then all jumped in the car to go to Kawanis park (Yes, the same name as park I live right next to in Missouri and the park that's right next to where I live now), one of the guys eating a taco with no hands as we drove. Upon arriving we met up with the other teams and had pizza. The award for winning was a bag of salad ;) We didn't win, but with that sort of incentive it was hard to walk away empty-handed...;)
Then we went to the dance! Finding it was an adventure... but in the end we all had a fun time! I danced in a group with Emily and her roommate, Sage, Ale, and Tamara (from my last area in Argentina, Palermo ward!)
When the dance ended and I was back at my apartment I was greeted by chocolate chip zucchini bread Yum!
March 6: Fast Sunday, A thank-you note, Ward prayer
As I was sitting in the congregation at church I felt prompted to go up and bear my testimony. We had sung "I believe in Christ", which is one of my favorite hymns for one verse: "I believe in Christ, so come what may". I had loved the line before, but while in the MTC and as part of the MTC choir we had sung this song. Singing this song, especially this line, as a missionary of the Lord Jesus Christ among a hundred other missionaries was POWERFUL. I remember crying as we had sung that line with such force and with such a spirit. I talked about this in my testimony, about the power of this line, and about the importance of being willing to do what Christ needs of us.
Some other church thoughts:)
* When we go to the temple we lock away everything and go in without anything we brought in. Think about the beauty of this
* He (Christ) loves you even when you can't feel it (this was emphasized several times)
* You cannot seperate hope from gratitude
* The prophet's central message to us is that of Hope
* He (God) digs in deeper than we ever would because it Hurts
* Hope functions independent of human emotion or circumstance
* How deep does your hope go?
* He dishes out exactly what we can handle
Right as church was starting I received a text from an old friend who I hadn't thought I would ever talk to again. Upon receiving the text I considered not answering it, but decided to do so. I had written this friend a thank-you note, following prompting I had received from our Relief Society activity. I hadn't been able to get him the note, and knew that this would be my chance. I asked him if he would meet me at 5:30, and we walked down together to my apartment from church to get the note. It felt good to be able to give him the note thanking him for everything he had done for me and for the service and love he had shown. It's always nice to thank those that care about you for their love and help!
Ward prayer was also fun, as always;)
March 7: REED GETS HIS CALL!, Group FHE!
I'm at work when I get a text from mom saying, "Reed just got his call!! He's going to Taiwan!! He's leaving June 22nd!! Provo MTC!!" Needless to say, I was super pumped!!
During my dance class our teacher broke us up into groups: who would be competing in Dancesport, who wouldn't, and who wanted to but didn't have a partner. I had wanted to but didn't have a partner. I stepped into the group of "wants a partner" when I saw that my friend Schuyler didn't have a partner for Cowboy Two-step as his previous partner couldn't make it. We filled out a form and decided to go for it, even if it was two or three days away...
Also had group FHE:) All of the FHE groups in the ward got together and we did lots of group activities. Lane and I decided (we're the FHE parents/leaders of our group) that we were going to have everyone dress in pink to show unity. The leaders were technically supposed to go in BYU apparel, but we decided to be #pinkrebels. We also had to come up with a phrase to introduce ourselves. We came up with "a combination of English class and Latin sass". Was it perfect? Yes.
For the activities we did an airplane toss and a cup building race. We ended with rootbeer floats and other snacks.
March 8: Devotional with Emily and Marla (Vocal Point etc...)
So, the weekly Devotional consisted of dance and vocal performances. Vocal Point performed and did the song "Happy" as well as "Nearer my God to thee". As they were singing I thought that the main singer in the front was in my dance class, although I wasn't sure...
March 9: Practicing for Dancesport, English test
In dance we praticed for DanceSport:) We had to practice "taking the stage", which in Country Western competitions consists of running onto the floor, wooping and hollering like true cowboys.
Also took an English test from ENG 291 and we got homemade bread from one the presentation students... delicious YES.
March 10: DANCESPORT!, Temple with Emily
Early morning preparing for the Dance competition :) Dominique was an angel and came over to put my hair in a french braid to add to my country outfit. I got to the Marriott Center at around 7:40am and met up with Schuyler and the girl he would be competing with for the Polka. I helped him put his number on, 379, and we watched the high school age latin dancers sparkle and compete as we waited for our event to be called. When it was time we joined the line, all of us decked out with braids and cowboy hats, belts and boots. I was excited and ready to woo the crowd as they called our event and we all ran onto the floor. Upon reaching a spot on the floor we all had to strike a pose. Schuyler and I put our hands on our hips and looked sassy until the music started. We stepped into dance position and were off, twirling and all smiles. The round ended about a minute later and we bowed before I took his hand and we ran back off the floor.
We were watching the call-back screen when they put our event up. We all scanned the numbers quickly. I saw a "379" and turned to face Schuyler, a big smile on my face and we gave each other high fives and joined the other couples who had been called back for the next round in the line. They had cut a lot of us, leaving us with 11 remaining couples. We would now be competing the semi-final and I was freaking out, as I'd never gotten this far at DanceSport before! (Given, there are usually more rounds before reaching the semi-finals, but that's ok).
In the Semi Final round we were all smiles and energy as we went out there and just had fun. I was shocked and delighted to hear that we would be going to the Final round! Sage was also dancing the same event and was in the finals as well! :)
We gave it our all and were later called back for the awards. We all stood in a line in front of the judges and announcers as they started naming 7th, 6th, 5th, ect... When they still hadn't called us up I realized that we were going to get a trophy, and I was freaking out as they called 2nd place, 379! We went up, they took a picture of us, and we took home these lovely trophies of victory!
That evening I also had the chance to go to the temple with Emily, always a wonderful experience:)
March 11: Making lunch with Dominique (enchiladas), Walmart trip with Sage
After work Dominique and I went to my place and made some Mexican worthy enchiladas as we talked and I made some relationship metaphors that she enjoyed.
Also went to Walmart with Sage and her friend who drove us. Such a kind soul to help a college student without a car :):)
March 12: The joys of a cold!, Doing homework, tests, and temple, "Bang" with the Whitworths
The cold strikes again! Regardless, I was able to get a lot of homework done, take my New Testament test, and go to the temple. My roommate was leaving and offered to give me a ride... which took out the 20 minute walk factor! It was nice to be able to feel the peace of the temple and enjoy the beautiful weather :) Upon leaving the temple I ran into Ignacio of all people, who was heading into the MTC for work.
While walking home from the temple I called Cynthia to see if I could still come some Sunday to attend the Spanish Ward for church. She said I could stay the night and go with them the next day, to which I agreed. After changing and packing up my overnight stuff they picked me up and we all went to Walmart and then Smith's to do some before-Sunday shopping. At Smith's there was a five for five deal on goldfish/cheezits etc.. and we took advantage of that, buying "game" snacks like pros;) We then all played "Bang"! It was way too much fun, with "there's a snake in my boot! BANG. Wrong boot..." and lots of Vice Deputies going rouge and fighting with the Sheriff just because ;)
March 13: Spanish ward with Cynthia and family, Meeting and teaching Elijah, Family Lunch
Spanish Ward goodness! It felt so good to be able to go to church at a Spanish ward, to sing in Spanish and pray in Spanish and speak in Spanish. The best part of the whole thing was getting to help out with primary. I was going to be teaching the 4-5 year olds. One of them in particular was pretty rambunctious, running downstairs and around the church in an effort to not get caught and forced into "Primary". I caught him at one point and asked him why he was running around. His five year old response, in pure Spanish mind was, "I'm looking for mom." I assured him that mom was in her class and that he needed to go to his when Cynthia came up behind me and whispered to me in English that his parents were actually in jail and that he had been brought to church by his grandma. My heart instantly reached out to this little boy! We had to play "chase and go seek" a couple more times before he ran back upstairs to Primary. I confronted him on the stairs in his little suit and asked him if he'd go to Primary with me. He said he didn't want to go because "all they do is sing!". I assured him that we would do other things and told him I had a prize for him, which instantly perked his attention. The lesson was going to be on missionaries, and there were little "future missionary" tags on the table. I went over and got down on my knees to pin the little tag on his shirt. He stuck out his little chest proudly and started pulling a heart sticker off of one of the crayon boxes. I asked him what he was doing, to which he went up to me and put the heart stick on my blouse, saying "para ti!". Satisfied now, he took my hand and led me into the Primary room. As opening exercises started I quickly realized that this little boy was going to take up all of my time, and I was ok with that. I kept him in his chair by taking both of his little hands in mine. He instantly was drawn to my ring and started playing with it and my bracelets. When we switched into "singing time" I realized that the little guy was right, and that we would be singing forever! I kept the little guy busy, sitting myself down on the ground and patting the carpet next to me, asking him if he would be my partner. He complied and snuggled up right next to me, keeping himself entertained with my ring and a piece of paper that he turned into a house that my ring lived in.
When we split into classes Cynthia asked if I would just take Elijah, the little boy I'd been taking care of thus far. That was fine with me, and was a blessing for her, as none of the other teachers wanted to saddled with the "troublemaker". I had seen that more than anything Elijah just needed love, and had tried to show him such, playing with his hair and keeping him close to me. At one point he had given me a hug before continuing to color the "house" with his pencil.
In the class, that was just us two, we started by coloring missionaries. He would ask for various colors in English, like "Necesito blue" or "Tienes que usar Pink." As we were coloring I asked Elijah if he wanted to watch a video. He nodded his head, intent on coloring as I went to the church Bible videos and asked him to pick one. He picked the video where Jesus is placed in the tomb, leaving it three days later. A rather somber video, but I went along with it. The next one to be picked was Jesus with the little children, which I found all too perfect. The last one we watched was one I picked. I wanted Elijah to see the entire resurrection of the Savior. As we watched he had all sorts of questions.
"Who is that?"
"Jesus"
"Who are they?"
"Bad men who want to kill Jesus."
"Why?"
"They didn't like him because he taught good things"
"Why is he up there?"
"Jesus died on the cross. Do you know why?"
"No. Why?"
"Because he loves us. Because he loves you. He loves you a lot."
"Oh. Where is he going now?"
"They're taking him to the tomb, remember the other video?"
"I remember! He's not going to stay dead right?"
"Right, he's going to live again. Look, there he is now, in the one in white."
Elijah was transfixed, and as the video ended he went over to the chalkboard and started drawing. He drew some big up and down lines and said, "Montanas!" or "Mountains!"
I thought that was cute, but Elijah started to surprise me as he drew a little circle, saying that it was the tomb where Jesus had been. He then drew two intersecting lines and said it was the cross where Jesus had died. I then asked Elijah if Jesus had stayed there or if he had lived again. Elijah quickly drew a line going upward, telling me that Jesus had lived again.
This little boy had just taught me part of the Plan of Salvation! He had just been a little missionary! He then erased the board and did the exact same thing 2 more times, teaching me twice more about Jesus and what had happened. It was utterly profound, and when it was time for him to leave I didn't want to see him go. He left me with the picture we had colored of the sister missionary, the one he had said was very pretty, saying it was for me.
WOW. That's all I have to say.
After church I went back with the Whitworths, where we had a big family lunch and then talked. It was nice to feel like part of a family together on Sunday:)
After my nap (primary wears you out!) I talked to my family on the phone, and something dad said really hit me. As I was telling him about Elijah and the wonderful experience I had had he says out of the blue,
"Maybe This is why you were supposed to come home early."
***
March 14: Helping Reed with his Argentina project, FHE: ping pong, foosball, and pies for Pi day
My brother decided to choose Argentina for his Spanish Honors class project. Guess who was excited/an expert/had photos she had personally taken of the country? THIS GIRL;) It was tons of fun to go through and pick pictures for Reed to use and show his class!
After class we had FHE, which consisted of making an Apple pie and a Key Lime pie, which turned out beautifully thanks to my very talented FHE co-partner :)
We also went down to building 14 and played some ping pong, as well as a very competitive game of foosball before going back to eat the now ready pies. Great way to do Pi day;)
March 15: Devotional with Emily
Another great devotional! Some thoughts:
* The light from above provides us with direction and purpose
* "Due to peer pressure I took the shorter run" Don't do this, go for your dreams!
* The lighted path is not always easy, we may have continual doubts, during the the run we will realize that we were actually the light for others
* Clinging to the light is a choice
* Don't search for easy fixes
* "Do it anyway" Mother Teresa
* We must choose wisely who we are close to. We're going to be impacted by this person. Do they bring us to the light?
* Don't go where it would be easier somewhere else. Take the struggle. It'll change your future.
* God intenionally places certain opportunities in our paths to open doors. Because ofthis much is expected.
* We can be the light to our family, coworkers, mere acquaintances, and total strangers
* Do the hard things
March 16: Polka quiz :)
Got to test with Schuyler for the Polka, which went really well, as well as helping Logan, one of the other guys, get ready for it. I found out that he IS the guy from Vocal Point, which was exciting:)
Also, cute picture sent from one of my companions, Hermana Muro, who made a little tribute to all of her companions thus far;)
March 17: Spotting my cousin Dominque;), Lunch with Emily, Temple, "The Good Dinosaur" with the Adams
Yes, I did happen to look out the window at breakfast and find a familiar someone running down the street;) Also had a wonderful lunch with Emily, took my Spanish test with minor casualties, and went to the temple, where I ran into Ignacio Again! Talk about interesting timing.
As I was leaving the temple I get a call from Sage, asking me if I want to go see "The Good Dinosaur". I agree, and they pick me up on the walk down from the temple;) We get to the theater, where Sage's dad and brothers are waiting with sandwiches, which we eat quickly before going into the theater.
Just have to say, it was a good movie, heavily impacted by all of the literature I've been reading and the psychoanalytic criticism of my other English class. Worth the watch! Get ready to cry like 4 times though...
It's been a great March thus far!
And for those of you who enjoy my writing, here's an essay I wrote for my Creative Writing Class:
M.L. Dickson
Quotidian Essay
On the Art of Sweating
Marking shirts under the arms, beading on the forehead, and bringing the taste of salt to the lips: this is sweat. I’ve heard that some people sweat when they’re nervous. Their palms will grow damp and they’ll wipe them on their jeans when no one’s looking, as though sweat is something bad or unnatural. I will admit, I’ve tried to hide it under dark colored shirts at church dances, when 90’s music blares and line dances like “Cotton-eyed Joe” crop up every five songs or so. It collects on my forehead after speed-walking to my next class on campus, not that I’m actually late. Or it’s that salty taste of victory that lingers on my lips after a 5k, after a Cross Country hill workout, after a particularly grueling session in the pool. So perhaps it’s not all that unnatural after all.
I’ve left it on the large field of Brigham Young University that they’re sure to build another “castle” apartment on top of, the dark of 11:30pm cooling it almost as quickly as the sweat can form. My cousin, her boyfriend, and I were playing soccer, our bare feet growing rough as the soft grass underneath us became a bed that we embraced as we threw ourselves together in a line of three at midnight, panting as we gazed up at the stars and the sweat cooled, chilling our bodies.
Every Tuesday I dance for three hours straight, tying my hair back to keep the sweat out of my eyes as I’m twirled and dipped and led around during an hour and a half of country swing, followed by the pure passion of Latin dance. I go from one partner to the next in Latin, and have already danced with the respective locations of Mexico, El Salvador, Argentina, and the exotic Boise, Idaho. While waiting for a partner, catching my breath and drying my face, a “Manuel” or “Jose” might take my hand and without a word lead me into the mass of sweaty, dancing bodies. I don’t catch his name or tell him mine as we move seamlessly together, diving in and out of dips, dancing to bachata and salsa and something that involves a lot of hip action and close contact. We speak in the language of sweat, a silent language of exertion and complete fidelity to the passion of dance. We murmur along with the other dancers, all of us speaking that universal language and trying to casually keep our hands free of it to avoid slipping away from one another.
On my High School Cross Country team sweat was considered a rite of passage and a tool of our vigorous trade. The rest of the school sports were terrified of us, and we used that to our advantage, our team shirt reading one year: “Our sport is your sport’s punishment”. Everything about it unified those on the team and terrified those watching from the sidelines, from the wiping of foreheads to the damp hands and that familiar Cross Country smell that we all had, from the senior guys who wore it like expensive cologne, to us girls who wore it with just as much pride. Some girls would even sport shirts that had writing that refused to show until one had sweated sufficiently: you had to earn every word.
For the St. Louis races the team would gather in front of Cape Central High School, eyes bleary as we bundled under blankets and hoodies and oftentimes each other to keep warm, the four in the morning air sharp and biting at any exposed appendages. The bus ride up was long, and like brothers and sisters on a road trip we would find a couple friends and all find the perfect sleeping position. I would lean my head on Lizz’s shoulder as Lane positioned his pillow on my lap and passed out. After the thrill of the race we would all file back on, the hot of the day kicking away the blankets as we pulled off hoodies and sweatpants, sweat dried to every jersey, in everyone’s hair. The windows, all thrown open as the bus went down interstates, would hurl gusts of wind at us, making us shiver as the sweat would cool. Back on went the hoodies and sweatpants as people huddled together like packs of penguins to stay warm.
During practices we would run 1000’s, three or four or, for the Varsity men, five, the hot humid Missouri air catching in our lungs as sweat would drop like the rain we were all praying for. The sun beat upon our heads mercilessly my freshman year as I stood in the half-shade of my senior friend Katie, hoping that Coach Hahn would lose his whistle to keep us from doing the whistle drill. We all stuck close to each other, our damp arms sticking together as we attempted to create shade for the shorter--and therefore more blessed--among us. The whistle soon sounded and we were off and running, beads gathering and running down faces. I soon gave up trying to wipe my face with the back of my hand and let it run, that metallic sweat taste a song of triumph, a signal that I was still alive. Life was palpable in moments like these, my mind crying out to stop as my body beat constantly forward. A whistle sounding, all of us slowing down until it rang out again, our legs picking up the previous pace resignedly. When the whistle finally dropped from Coach Hahn’s mouth to hang around his neck we stopped, sinking to the nearest bed possible, the cool-of-the-grass smell mixing in with the smell of life itself: sweat.
The better the runner, the longer you would run. I would run three to five miles a day, the sweat a sign that I was doing more than just going somewhere and returning. I wasn’t just running in a circle, I was developing a relationship with my skin. It would speak through droplets, praising my aching muscles and sore calves. I wore it like military badges, the sweat ranking me to the level of captain one day and general the next.
Thursday was “hill day” or sweat-die-repeat day. The sweat, like an orchestra warming up and fine tuning on Wednesday, would roll forth in a glorious melody the next day. Sometimes we’d talk ourselves into being sick to avoid the hill workout, a tight circuit as we all sprinted up the hill and around a tree were coach would yell at us “go faster, don’t you slow down yet, look up from your feet, you’re almost there, I know you’re faster than this!” Upon reaching the sanctuary of the tree we wouldn’t stop, but would slow down as we dropped down the side of the hill and circled back around, sprinting to the top again. I realized that sweat can achieve different levels of fame on hill days, marking the faces and bodies of those who refused to slow down on the incline and refused to slow up until swinging around the tree. Breaks were glorious, but only for a couple minutes, long enough to drink more water than your stomach could really hold. Any longer and the sweat would start to retreat, our resolve evaporating with it.
Sometimes we didn’t practice at all and would grab a Frisbee, all of us drenched as we wore ourselves into the field, dashing to catch the piece of plastic and hurl it towards someone on our team, as fiercely loyal to our teammates as the sweat was to our exertion. We were all willing to sweat and bleed for the team. The team was us. We were the team. The team went before all else: pain, hygiene, social boundaries and nice clothing or makeup. No one ever tried to hide the sweat or spray on a defensive layer of Axe or flowery perfume. We wore it like survivors wear scars, prominent and on display.
Sweating in the pool was a little harder, but my inner coach would often push me to the breaking point during High School swim season. Speed workouts were fiercely competitive, as I strained my legs and arms to throw myself into the wall before other teammates. The power of “team” was not as present here, every man for himself against the timer in Coach Powell’s hand. Water threw itself like tsunami waves against the walls of the white plastic bubble that sheltered the community pool in the winter, seeping into the often broken concrete of the deck. Each flip turn was a miniature ocean storm, Coach’s strapped sandals often heavy from water.
Not everyone would sweat in the pool, and those that did like me had to push boundaries. Speed became more important than charley-horses or sprained fingers as the needles of the timer prodded us forward like electric shocks. When I felt sweat on my lip and tasted that telltale salt mixed with the chlorine I knew that I was going fast. I sometimes wore myself ragged alongside the other “fast swimmers” trying to sweat in the water, like a savage chief showing off his kill to his lowly clan followers. I secretly loved the look of shock and respect as I wiped my face with my hand dramatically, complaining about how I had expected to not sweat in a pool full of ice cube water. It became a vain trophy that I hoisted with pride, binding me to the other obsessed swimmers as we all swam until our faces were red and it was hard to catch breaths.
Dancing now will sometimes take me back to those Swim Team Cross Country days, the smell and feel of sweat something earned with a price. As someone else I haven’t met takes my hand and leads me into the middle of the floor I take a moment to wipe my brow, still taken back by how accomplished it makes me feel. With my hands in his, surrounded by other dancers, I almost feel the Cross Country team huddled around me, offering a prayer before the race. I’m almost back on Swim Team, the swimmers chasing after me as I chased after others in our lane, a never ending circle of teammate upon teammate. One thing remains constant: not the racing spikes or the racing suits, but the sweat of accomplishing a hard thing together.
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