Tapping Into Muscle Memory

Approximately one year ago, I tried a new thing. More precisely, I tried a new old thing.   I signed up for dance lessons.   Decades ago, when I was an awkward adolescent trying to survive middle school, a cute boy teased me for being a tap dancer. Several days later, much to the chagrin of my instructor, I decided to hang up my dance shoes.  

I still remember the look of disappointment on Mrs. San Juan’s face when I told her I wanted to quit. She swiveled around on her faded yellow piano bench to face me as I tried to convince her I didn’t like tap dancing anymore. Perhaps she sensed something (or saw through my blatant lie), because she paused for what seemed like an eternity, looked into my eyes, and responded in her familiar eastern European accent, “I suggest you hold onto your tap shoes.” Turning to resume playing her usual dance accompaniment tunes for a room full of eager, young dancers, she quietly predicted, “Someday, you’ll be back.”  

“Well Mrs. San Juan,” I muttered as I removed my black patent-leather Mary Janes from storage. “You were right. You told me I’d be back, and here I am.”

What inspired me to dust off my long-forgotten tap shoes after so many years?  

The idea came to me after a physical therapy session. My therapist watched me move and concluded, “Your slow twitch muscles are working just fine, but we need to get the fast-twitch muscles back online. You need to do some footwork.” I nodded and spent the next half hour maneuvering through brightly colored hoops and obstacles.

To be honest, I didn’t enjoy those footwork drills at all. To me, it felt like yet another onerous homework assignment. I began to feel discouraged by my growing repertoire of boring, yet necessary therapy exercises and thought, “If I need to do footwork, I might as well have some fun.”  

On a whim I googled “tap dance lessons” and imagined how I would explain my situation to a total stranger. Self-doubt crept in. I wondered, “Am I going to be able to do this? Is anyone going to want to have a middle-aged woman with Parkinson’s for a student? Will I fall and embarrass myself?” Prepared to sign a liability waiver if requested, I mustered the courage to dial the number.  

A friendly voice answered, “Hello. This is Kim…” I took a deep breath and began to explain, “I’ve recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease and my therapist recommended footwork. Would you be willing to meet with me to see if I can tap dance? I waited for the deafening moment of stunned silence to pass. To my surprise, Kim didn’t snicker, discourage me from trying, or reject my request. She responded graciously and even sounded a little excited at the prospect of working with me. She asked if I needed tap shoes and said, “I know exactly what you are trying to do. My Dad has Parkinson’s.”  

A few days later, sitting in Miss Kim’s Dance Studio, I struggled to make my fingers work the tiny buckles on my tap shoes. My mindfulness training kicked in and I acknowledged the anxious knot in my stomach and my unusually shaky hands. Adrenaline and emotions have a way of exacerbating my motor symptoms, especially the tremors. I now realize, facing the question of my limitations is a stressor in and of itself. Self-doubt, fear, nervous energy and new people/surroundings only make things worse.  

With Parkinson’s Disease, I never really know what I can and can’t do until I try, which also means that I can, to some degree, avoid facing the harsh reality of my diminishing capacity if I never attempt anything new or difficult. If I were to only do what my body “feels like” doing, I could easily lie down on the couch, binge watch NetFlix and pretend I don’t have a Movement Disorder.

The problem is, the less I move, the worse I feel. The worse I feel, the easier it is for me to lose motivation, give up, stop trying and stay home where I am comfortable rather than taking the risk of venturing out. Sometimes the temptation to shrink back and avoid a challenge can be very appealing.  

But not today.  

After meeting Kim and working through a few stretches and warm up drills… I began to tap again. I already knew the fundamentals, but I felt rusty. My mind, will and body worked together to help overcome the challenge of delayed and uncoordinated movements caused by Parkinson’s. Signals from brain to foot occasionally misfired and I had to slow down, repeat, revise repeat… New combinations felt like cognitive “tongue twisters” to my dopamine depleted brain, but muscle memory became my faithful ally. From age 3-13, every week of my life, Mrs. San Juan had drilled rhythmic movement patterns into my young soul. To my great delight, even though I hadn’t tapped in decades, my body still remembered!  

Focus, movement, sound, accomplishment, joy…to me, this is dance. Just like when I was a child, it felt so good to finally “get it” and hear the clarity of each tapping sound. Tap dance as a discipline builds strength while simultaneously challenging movement, coordination, balance and cognition. I tap because it is a strategic investment in my long-term wellness. I tap to improve basic motor functioning. I tap because it brings me joy.  

After such a positive experience re-introducing this “new old thing” into my life, I’m beginning to wonder what other hobbies, sports and activities I practiced during my youth will become my allies and helpers in this challenging Movement Disorder journey.  

I wonder - What other resources can I tap into?