More fears faced which led to more dancing than I ever thought I could do in one day. Classes, practica, milonga - all the way til the end. Eight hours. I danced with leaders I had been too intimidated to dance with before. And, I danced with my few familiar favorite leaders - from whom I not only learn so very much, but make me feel safe and comfortable in their embrace. I danced with new leaders I'd never met and learned more still. Of course I still stumbled, faltered, missed leads . . . apologized. I questioned my steps, my axis, my embrace . . . I had to be reminded to breathe, to collect my ankles, to shift weight... and again to breathe... But I never questioned what it was to be there and dance. As other tangueras noted, the pain doesn't really hit until you stop dancing. I was fine even through the car ride home. You can only delay the inevitable so long, though. I slept most of Sunday. The bottoms of my feet were bruised and blistered. I felt like I had weights tied ...
"El infinito tango me lleva hacia todo" - Borges