Why we run.

I have recently been reading Chi Running, a thoughtful book that does a superb job of redefining the impulse to run. For Danny Dreyer it was the desire to understand the way the body works mixed with his discovery of Tai Chi that led him to re-evaluate running. He described the transformation of his approach to running from a competitive sport to a practice, like Tai Chi, or yoga.

A week ago I took Anna Halprin's class again where she prepared us for her annual Planetary Dance this summer, and a smaller version of it for National Dance Week in April.

As usual, we began by shifting our weight, walking and then skipping. Then we laid down and did some floor work followed by a free form improvisation. Afterwords we stood in a circle. First Anna asked "who are you running for today?". My ears perked up. It was an excellent question. Then she went on to say that when members of indigenous communities dance or run that they do so for the community, for a loved one, for all people, for the planet. The self is there, but of much less importance. Of course, I thought. When I run barefoot I am thinking about larger things than myself or people I know. I am thinking about making contact with the earth, with the planet and everything that's on it. One by one, we stood and declared for whom we would run. Then we added that we also ran for all other people with this issue. Then the runner dove into the first ring (for individuals/self) of the circle and ran with the others already there. As they felt ready, they turned farther into the formation and followed the second circle (the community), running the other way. An older woman turned again and walked a third circle (the world) slowly in the center. I had the distinct feeling that the third circle was reserved for elders.

Afterwards Anna smiled and said that she loved our dedications because they had been so specific. Everyone had spoken of a friend, a loved one, or a deep connection to important events in the world. She added.

"When you are really running for someone you can just run forever"

Anna Halprin's "Movement Ritual and Dance Explorations"

This morning I began studying with Anna Halprin, the great-grandmother of West Coast U.S. contemporary dance. She is simply amazing. I've heard her say that aging is hard and I have heard that she has been ill, but she looked beautiful today, her movement supple and easeful.

I was floored (yes, that is a pun) to find that she does a long series of barefoot warm-ups. One of her first lessons to us was that wearing shoes and even socks is a bit like wearing a muffler on our feet. I wanted to jump up and down and scream "yes!" but I didn't, which was good, because we got to jump up and down in the next exercise...and skip and run. Ms. Halprin told us to let our shoulders move, to feel it coming from the feet and the floor. Before I knew it, I was doing the same thing that I usually do when I take a run through the Presidio, except that it included going in all directions, not just forward. It was great - both good for the brain and nicely tiring for the body. I can't wait for next week!

In fact, Ms. Halprin is so foot-centric in class that she asks all of her students to take off everything from the ankles down, including socks, and asks for pant cuffs to be rolled. I was excited to see that because I have, for a long time, gone completely barefoot in rehearsals, even in cold weather, simply because anything that separated me from the ground or the floor was too much.

So this brings me to a new point.

One of the first things that drew me to barefoot running was a video of a runner who was running a long race at a track with a bunch of other folks. The camera shot pictures of him running. His movements were light - not a prance, exactly, more like a sort of weighty skittering. His head never changed levels, his legs were very quick. Compared to the shod runners he looked incredibly graceful. One of the shots was of him and several other barefoot runners keeping him company as he circled the track over and over again. During the interview he said that he didn't feel as if he were running. To him it felt more like dancing. 

My sense is that when I take my shoes off and move, that I am dancing, not just covering distance between point A and point B. Or even if I am simply going from one place to another, when it's skin to the ground it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Although it's usually in minimal shoes, Parkour is one of the most elegant, efficient types of dance I've ever seen (not counting the egregious use of acrobatics, which is like putting cheap corn syrup frosting on the finest cream cake in the world). Another thing that I remember and again, I can't at this moment find the video - is an interview with Parkour expert David Belle who says that the less shoe on the foot of a freerunner the better. (I will do some searches and if I can find it again will link, I promise!)

Dance is just another way to get from point A to point B, to get that journey to mean more than the sum of its parts. This is why I tend to start from ideas rather than any particular dance vocabulary. To me, the definition of dance is just to engage ground reaction force, to see where it goes, and where it came from. It's one of the most beautiful forces in the universe, its four-dimensionality poetic in its complexity and perfection. 

When your feet talk to the earth in a way that allows the forces of gravity to spread up into the body, that's a dance. If you were lying down, on your knees or sitzbones it would be possible to find this same play of weight and rebound.

I think that people need to ground themselves and dancing does that. It's also a deep human need that like everything else, modern humans have compartmentalized and reserved for specific circumstances only to be done by specially talented and trained people.

That's certainly not true. Everyone can dance, which means that everyone can run. Which means that everyone can dance. Of course.