Feeling more self-confident and empowered with age, I didn’t give up my dancing to avoid interaction with their kind. I ignored their inquisitions; when they persisted, I firmly told them to mind their own business.
I found the perfect male partner in an effeminate young man. During warm up exercises one day, he started a conversation with me about ballet telling a story with body movements. When he asked my opinion about which fourth hand position was better to use in that day’s routine, I questioned why he didn’t ask the instructor.
“Because I think you’re a better dancer than her and I want to hear your ideas.”
I considered his response natural honesty and unintentional flattery rather than an attempt to beguile me for ulterior purposes. We were dance partners that day and, because we both worked on our dancing, for every partner practice thereafter. We developed an education-based partnership that benefited both of us.
Neither of us showed a romantic or sexual interest in the other. I assumed he was gay and didn’t care to what he attributed my attitudes. Months into our cooperation, I encountered him in the parking lot after class. Walking past a van that had afforded him seclusion, I saw him kissing another man. He looked mortified when I greeted him as I passed. He came running after me, reaching me as I opened my car door.
“Anna, I hope knowing what I am doesn’t mean you will refuse to dance with me.”
“You mean because you’re gay? Zack, I believed your interest was in men all along. It’s why I prefer dancing with you. You’re the best male dancer who doesn’t use dancing as an excuse to touch me inappropriately and you’ve never propositioned me.”
“Are you gay, too?”
“No. I have no sexual interests at all. I was abused and don’t trust most men.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that but I’m glad you feel you can trust me when we dance. You can trust me to be discreet about your past, too. You don’t have to share any details. Just knowing you were mistreated in some way explains so much about who you are.”
He called his friend Ron over for introductions. When I saw him up close, I realized that I had seen him waiting around before but never made the connection to Zack. Ron was muscular looking and masculine in his speech but his handshake was weak. His politeness put me at ease.
I didn’t develop the idea that I could only trust gay men. I was loosening up socially and felt at ease talking to men in lecture assemblies and public settings. No longer did I perceive personal questions as an affront to my sensitivities. Even asking me out did not frighten me; I simply declined the invitations. Only when a man made inappropriate proposals or remarks did I get angry and stern in my response.
* * * * *
One day near the end of my second year at the junior college, a woman approached me as I cooled down after my regular 5K exercise run on the campus track. She introduced herself as an athletic scout from the University of Georgia. She had been timing some high school girls at the same track when she noticed me. Even though I wasn’t sprinting full speed and I had run a considerable distance, my pace impressed her enough that she timed me with her stopwatch on what turned out to be my kick lap.
She was pleased that I had competition experiences that we could discuss; she asked questions and took notes. In high school, I wasn’t coached on technique beyond basic instructions; I just ran hard. Despite that, I never lost a race in high school meets and set two school records my senior year. I didn’t compete at the community college because it didn’t have a competitive athletic program so my time and energies focused on studies and dancing. I ran for exercise and conditioning.
When she learned no one had ever recruited me, she was excited that I would be interested. So eager to give me an official tryout on fresh legs, she made an appointment to come back the significant distance two days later. Because I also mentioned my swimming victories, she asked if another scout could contact me to schedule a separate visit.
When we met for my track tryout, the scout was surprised that I was dressed in sweats (I didn’t own any shorts) and suggested the heavy material might slow me down. My attire didn’t matter in the end. She timed my first hundred meter sprint at thirteen seconds flat; two more sprints were in the high-twelves. After a short rest, she described my four hundred meter run as showing impressive endurance and pace. The swimming evaluation took place a week later. Despite a heavy one-piece suit, amateur turning technique, and almost two years without practice, my times impressed the scout.
They both made effusive remarks about my talents and assured me that I would hear from the college again. Within a few weeks, two men in suits sat down with my parents and me. They offered me a full scholarship to complete a bachelor’s degree if I competed for the school. Accepting was a no-brainer. I wasn’t considering what athletic successes might be ahead for me; I valued the financial support toward getting my degree.
Attending an out of state college necessitated living in a dorm but I felt I could handle the social distractions because third year students are generally more mature and serious about completing their education. Two athletic regimens and a class load intended to earn my Bachelor’s degree in three semesters left me little free time for anything else.
Needing to stay drug free and sober for competitions, I declined what roommates offered to share after hours. Turning twenty-one two months after arrival, I did drink an occasional beer and sampled cocktails at restaurants. On a holiday weekend in the dorm, I got drunk on beer for the only time in my life. I was sick to my stomach for days after and swore off beer. Just before my graduation, my roommates coaxed me into trying marijuana. I only remember feeling paranoid about being caught and ashamed afterward for doing something illegal.
I received personal coaching and training from female coaches in both track and swimming. I learned things that improved my times but I recognized their goals focused on school notoriety benefitting from my accomplishments. Collegiate competition was stiffer, too. Lacking the upper body strength needed to be an all-round elite swimmer relegated me to relay events. I also hated competing in revealing swimwear in front of spectators; my anxiety affected my concentration.
My track speed was still elite class but I faced competition where everyone was elite; I didn’t win every race. My worst finish was third, three tenths behind a photo finish; my worst time was half a second behind the winner. I competed in Olympic trials but I suffered a sprained ankle a week before a critical heat, which slowed me enough to fail making the cut.
After college, solitary running and swimming became a part of my exercise routines. I stretched and maintained ballet flexibility as well. I enjoyed the clear thought processes enabled by heightened blood flow and the euphoric sense of fitness I felt in my body. The routines I developed have remained a part of my life to this day.