Dancing into Middle Age

A surprising new hobby taught me there's more than one way to be flexible

- Julia Zarankin

BY MY EARLY 40s, I had exhausted all the hobbies that were supposed to make me feel better about entering middle age. I had taken an improv class, started learning a new language, launched myself into an unsuccessful pursuit of a craft only to amass a collection of unevenly stitched handmade books, and given yoga a second chance. I'd even bought a recliner to help alleviate the malaise.

And then, at the height of my low-grade desperation, I decided to sign up for a ballet class.

“But you’re not very flexible,” my husband gently reminded me. He wasn’t wrong. I nearly injured myself the one time I tried to lift my leg onto our bathroom vanity in an attempt to stretch.

Also, my track record for committing to physical activity wasn’t great: Between short stints on the recreational badminton court, a brief flirtation with cycling, an on-and-off relationship with swimming, and near-total abandonment of my dumbbell-lifting regimen, I could see how I didn’t exactly look like prospective ballerina material.

My teacher reminded me that ballet isn't about perfection.

But I was determined to give it a try. I needed confirmation that my body was capable of movement and grace.