Sweating, and the Small Stuff

Tonight I saw b-boys round robin at LA Valley College, using the sprung gymnastic floor to take falls that might end a dance on concrete. I got Parkour tips from high school boys who’d take a tumble and come back jumping. I watched in awe while girls and women from tween to twenty-something and men nearing middle age worked their rudimentary gymnastics; a group of competitive elderly meanwhile climbed hanging ropes under the clock. It wasn’t concert dance. The lights were fluorescent, not Fresnels. But the bodies were in motion, and I was moved.

Cheese.

However clumsily, what I’m getting at is this: I had a very long day. I’ve heard the words “hiring freeze” too many times, and I—like about 10% of Angelenos, or so I hear—would so appreciate being employed. But for a few well-spent dollars in North Hollywood I could forget about that, warm up, do my body work, and admire others’ as well. The roadblocks of life don’t seem so bad when I’m vaulting over blue mats that are much, much bigger.


LADB