Finding Strength Through Dance: Lessons from Session One
My adult jazz dance class started as a way to get moving again — but it became something more: a guide for life after 55.
As I close Session One, I see how dance has become my mirror — reflecting who I am, who I’m becoming, and how we can all keep growing, one step (and one song) at a time.
A Preamble: Women Over 55 Finding Strength Through Dance: Lessons from Session One
This post is part of my ongoing series, Lessons from the Dance Floor, where I share stories from my adult jazz dance class—and the surprising life lessons they reveal. Each week, I explore how movement, music, and a beginner’s mindset can help women over 55 confront self-doubt, rediscover joy, and live with intention. This is my Summary Week for Session One.
🌿 Blog Summary
In this heartfelt reflection on the first seven weeks of Lessons from the Dance Floor, Chris Cole shares her journey of rediscovery through movement, music, and mindset. From self-doubt to laughter, pain to progress, and exhaustion to joy, each class offered a mirror for midlife growth and finding strength. For women over 55 seeking purpose and presence, her story is a reminder that the real magic happens in the messy, beautiful middle of change.
Seven weeks. Seven Mondays of stretching, stumbling, smiling, and surprising myself. My adult jazz dance class started as a way to get moving again — but it became something more: a guide for life after 55. Each week offered a lesson in letting go, showing up, and finding joy in the awkward bits. As I close Session One, I see how dance has become my mirror — reflecting who I am, who I’m becoming, and how we can all keep growing, one step (and one song) at a time.
Finding strength—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and socially — was my goal.
Learning to Begin Again
Seven weeks ago, I walked into a dance studio.
I was 74. My daughter, Jen, was my teacher.
And though I didn’t say it out loud, I was terrified.
Would my body remember how to move?
Would my mind cooperate?
Would I belong in a room full of younger, bendier women?
The answer, as it turned out, was yes—and no—and yes again.
The first class filled me with joy. I was awkward, uncertain, and exhilarated. By the time I drove home, I was tickled pink. I had done it. I had shown up. I had danced.
That night, I realized something important: you don’t have to be perfect to participate. You just have to start.
Seven weeks ago, I walked into a dance studio.
I was 74. My daughter, Jen, was my teacher.
And though I didn’t say it out loud, I was terrified.
The first class filled me with joy. I was awkward, uncertain, and exhilarated. By the time I drove home, I was tickled pink. I had done it. I had shown up. I had danced.
The Middle Weeks: Where the Work Gets Real
Weeks Two through Five were a blend of soreness, laughter, brain fog, and small triumphs.
Sometimes I felt strong and capable; other times I felt like a tired, stiff tangle of limbs.
There were moments when my gremlins whispered:
“You don’t belong here.”
“You’re too old.”
“Who are you kidding?”
But something magical happened each time I chose to go anyway.
Each time I drove to class, stretched my hamstrings, and stepped onto that studio floor, the noise quieted. The music took over. I remembered that I am still learning, still growing, still very much alive.
Jen often says, “We get tangled—and then we get it.”
It’s true in dance, and it’s true in life.
We stumble, we learn, we laugh. And slowly, the awkwardness turns into rhythm. I was finding strength,
Weeks Two through Five were a blend of soreness, laughter, brain fog, and small triumphs.
Sometimes I felt strong and capable; other times I felt like a tired, stiff tangle of limbs.
Pain, Progress, and Persistence
By Week Four, my right knee protested loudly.
By Week Five, I was juggling muscle pain, global sorrow, and personal fatigue.
And yet, every Monday night, I drove to class—because dance had become my keystone habit.
It anchored me in motion and reminded me that my body, however imperfect, is still a vessel for joy.
Dance became a metaphor for intentional living:
Show up. Even when it hurts.
Move with curiosity. Let the rhythm teach you.
Celebrate effort, not perfection. The magic happens in the hard bits.
There’s a line between listening to your body and letting it boss you around. I’m still learning where that line is—but I know this: motion heals more than muscles and helps you in finding strength—physically, mentally, emotionally, socially, and more.
Every Monday night, I drove to class—because dance had become my keystone habit.
Dance became a metaphor for intentional living:
Releasing and Rebuilding
Week Six was heavy.
The news from the world weighed on me. My body ached. My mind was tangled in grief and confusion.
But when the music started, something in me shifted.
Dance released what words could not.
By the end of class, I could breathe again—really breathe. My lungs, my heart, and my mind had more space. That night, I realized I had been holding too much: fear, sorrow, guilt, and the weight of trying to control what I cannot.
Dance reminded me to let go and make room for life to move through me.
Week Six was heavy.
The news from the world weighed on me. My body ached. My mind was tangled in grief and confusion.
Dance reminded me to let go and make room for life to move through me.
Week Seven: Where the Magic Happens
Spectator night made me nervous.
But I showed up anyway.
By the end of class, something unexpected happened:
As we moved through diagonals—one by one, all eyes on us—Jen reminded us, “It’s in the hard bits that the magic happens.”
She was right.
The magic isn’t in getting every step right.
It’s in the sighs, the stumbles, the persistence, and the small moments of believing, I can do this.
That night, I realized I had completed my first session. Seven weeks of showing up, falling, learning, growing, laughing, and dancing. Seven weeks of becoming stronger—inside and out.
By the end of class, something unexpected happened:
As we moved through diagonals—one by one, all eyes on us—Jen reminded us, “It’s in the hard bits that the magic happens.”
She was right.
The magic isn’t in getting every step right.
It’s in the sighs, the stumbles, the persistence, and the small moments of believing, I can do this.
Lessons from Session One
Here’s what I’ve learned (so far):
🌿 You’re never too old to begin again.
🌿 You don’t have to feel ready to show up.
🌿 Joy and pain often share the same space.
🌿 Self-compassion is a stronger motivator than guilt.
🌿 Movement creates momentum—in dance, in healing, in life.
Dance didn’t just move my body; it moved my spirit.
It reminded me that growth doesn’t stop at 55 or 74.
It simply takes a new form.
Dance didn’t just move my body; it moved my spirit.
It reminded me that growth doesn’t stop at 55 or 74.
It simply takes a new form.
Moving Forward
As I prepare for Session Two, I carry this mantra with me:
“Show up, breathe, and make room for magic.”
If dance has taught me anything, it’s that intentional living is not about getting it perfect—it’s about getting present.
And if you, too, are feeling the pull toward something new—a class, a challenge, a change—please take that step.
You don’t need to know all the moves. You just need to begin.
💬 FAQ: Lessons from the Dance Floor — Session One Recap
1. What inspired you to start adult jazz dance at this stage of life?
I wanted to reconnect with my body, rediscover joy through movement, and challenge myself in new ways. Dance became a doorway to physical strength, self-expression, and a reminder that it’s never too late to begin again. It was about finding strength.
2. How has dancing each week helped you personally?
It’s helped me build confidence, loosen my grip on perfectionism, and find laughter in imperfection. Every class offers lessons about balance — not just in movement, but in life, energy, and mindset.
3. I feel too stiff or self-conscious to try a dance class. Any advice?
Start gently and go in with curiosity, not expectation. Wear something comfortable, focus on how the music makes you feel, and remember — no one’s watching as closely as you think. Confidence grows from small, joyful steps.
4. What do you mean by ‘Midlife in Motion’?
It’s my reminder that this stage of life isn’t about slowing down; it’s about moving forward — physically, emotionally, and creatively. Midlife in Motion is both a blog category and a mindset for women who want to live with intention and vitality.
5. How can readers use your lessons in their own lives?
Every story I share is really an invitation — to reflect, stretch, and move toward your own joy. Whether it’s journaling, walking, or finally signing up for that dance class, the key is to say “yes” to motion in your life.
6. What’s next for Lessons from the Dance Floor?
Session Two begins soon! I’ll continue sharing weekly reflections — the triumphs, tumbles, and takeaways — as I learn new choreography and keep exploring what it means to be a woman over 55, in motion and in growth.
NOTE: To check out my newest article on Medium, please click this link: 🌿 Medium Article: “The Magic of Showing Up — Reflections from Session One”
👉 I thoughtfully use AI tools to polish my writing, but every story comes from my lived experience. The dance class is real, the laughter is mine, and the lessons are shared with you in the hope they spark joy and reflection in your own journey.
