last post, about last Sunday's double bill of 4-mile race followed by 5x5 heavy back squats, I somehow neglected to mention how later that night I went dancing at my long-favorite dance party, Brazilian Beat Brooklyn. Those of you who know me and my old (and sadly neglected) Brazilian music blog know how much I love to dance to Brazilian music. For two reasons: the music itself, and the way one dances to it. The music is beautiful, it makes me happy, and I like to think that even if I were simply a disembodied brain in a vat of formaldehyde, I would still love that music. But I'm not. I live in a body that forces me to move in time to music that reaches my soul. (Does that sound cheeseball? I don't care.) And the way that Brazilian music--whether bossa nova, forro, batucada, samba, or MPB--reaches me has always been immediate, intense, and unique.
So when I dance to this music, I'm happy. And when it's samba in particular, the dancing is rather, shall we say, INTENSE. As in, "gee my thigh muscles are burning with all this super-fast gyrating, but I don't care because I'm having so much fun!"
Fitness experts always recommend to novice wanna-be active people to find exercise that they really like so they will stick with it. I have to agree with that sentiment, because I don't think I would ever work my legs so hard if I weren't having such a good time in the process.
(Oh, and my legs still hurt.)