Running as a dance: hills, downhills, and the emotional choreography of competition
As both a runner and a dancer, I’ve found that the highs and lows of a dance competition are a lot like tackling a challenging run, with its steep uphill climbs and blissful downhill stretches. The physical and emotional demands of each activity mirror each other, requiring a unique blend of discipline, mental fortitude, and the ability to find a rhythm within chaos.
The start of a run, whether it's a brisk morning jog or a longer weekend trek, mirrors the initial moments of a dance routine on stage. There's a sense of anticipation, a nervous energy that builds as you prepare to step into motion. For the runner, it’s about finding a comfortable stride, settling into a rhythm that will carry them forward. For the dancer, it's about finding their focus, recalling the intricate choreography they've diligently rehearsed, allowing their muscle memory to take over, and letting the emotions of the performance flow through them.
Then comes the inevitable uphill challenge, whether a winding trail or a seemingly endless city street. It's a moment of struggle, where your muscles ache, your breath becomes labored, and the temptation to slow down or even stop creeps in. This is where a runner digs deep, finding reserves of strength they didn’t know they possessed. Similarly, a dancer faces moments of immense difficulty within a routine, like a series of rapid turns or an intricate lift that requires immense strength and precision. The struggle may be unseen by the audience, masked by a serene expression or a steady stride, but the effort is undeniable. Both experiences require pushing past discomfort, focusing on the end goal rather than the immediate pain.
However, just as a dancer navigates challenging sections, there are moments in a routine where everything flows effortlessly. A turn sequence feels perfectly centered, a leap hangs suspended in the air, and for a few exhilarating seconds, the dancer feels weightless. This is the equivalent of the blissful downhill stretch for a runner. After conquering the punishing ascent, the descent feels like a reward. The momentum carries the runner, legs feel light, and they can simply let gravity do the work. The struggle gives way to an effortless glide, a euphoric moment that re-energizes them for the rest of their run.
Of course, both running and dance have their low points. A runner might hit a "wall", experiencing physical and mental exhaustion where every step feels like a lead weight. A dancer can have a moment of doubt, a stumble, or a performance that just doesn't connect with the audience or judges. The feeling of a less-than-perfect result can be devastating, but these setbacks aren't failures; they're valuable experiences that provide opportunities for learning and growth.
Both running and dancing are disciplines that require resilience. Progress isn’t always linear, and the true test of strength lies not just in conquering the easy parts, but in navigating the difficult ones with grace and grit. The lessons learned from a difficult uphill climb make the next one just a little bit easier. The insights gained from a flawed performance help tighten up the next one. In the end, the rhythm of both running and dance, like the terrain of life, is a series of highs and lows, each contributing to a richer, more meaningful journey.
Chris Suchan
Executive Director
Platinum National Dance Competition
Instagram: @suchanchris, @danceplatinumco
TikTok: @danceplatinumco0
Podcast: The Great Dance Debate
