Dancing saved my life.  The sound of Celtic tunes and hard shoes set the fast paced tempo at which I still operate.  Sometimes, I faked sick to skip strenuous practices; chewing pretzels and spitting them in the toilet, avoiding the strict tones of my teacher and the cramping in my feet.  Other times, I stayed up at night, went over each step in bed, tapped my fingers on school desks, and twisted my feet under dinner tables.  Dancing kept me on my toes, literally. 

I still live with less than two minutes to prove myself to the judges.  In the back of my mind I am always at the front of the stage, spotlights beating on me, the weight of a front springs’ precision whizzing through my mind.  When the seconds running on the game clock match the hustle of play, adrenaline pumps through my body and my mind runs at 1000 miles a minute.  I crave this feeling like an addiction to energy.  On the field, I forget my history paper, and dancing’s fast footwork translates into kicks and stride.  The tricks I used in memorizing treble patterns also allowed me to learn extensive lists of Chinese vocabulary. Whether it is the speed of lacrosse, a rigorous class, quick carves in a slalom ski race, footwork in soccer, or witty conversation, this intensity that dance introduced to me keeps my mind focused on the goals I have set out to achieve.  Its rapid movements bring grace into my life.