Dance Marathon

Performed as part of Mayfest, 2015

Review from Theatre Bristol Writers in Residence: Bella Fortune

Dear Dance Marathon,

Thank you. I know we only spent a few hours together but I wanted to let you know how wonderful you are. Despite my aching calves and mysterious bruise, I miss you. You were a joy to be with. The friends I made through you might not last a lifetime but, for that one, lovely night, they meant so much. You made a team of two from strangers; we laughed, we tried and held on to each other.

At first I thought you were too good to be true and in a way I was right. Your trickery at first was subtle but once I realised the kindness in your lies I knew I had to forgive you. For some you made them feel inadequate; for others you gave them the courage to shine. And even though we floundered and fell, after knowing you for such a short time we all became champions. Even when our number was up we spurred each other on. Even when you stripped me of my purpose; an indignity which led me to the regrettable act of betraying my sister, still then, I fought on.

I saw so much through you. I witnessed amateurs evolve into experts. I saw kindness morph into competitiveness. I sensed strangers becoming friends and family turn into temporary enemies. You made me race to the finish line, flail in an attempt to regain my status, squish my sweaty body against an unknown other. And even though you may have turned me into a loser, well, I forgive you. You showed me humility; the sigh of relief in letting go of hopes of a trophy and cheering for our new, winning, friends.

So thank you Dance Marathon. Thank you for the fun, thank you for the music. Thank you for the artistry, thank you for the effort; I'm sure you must be tired so please go a take long and well deserved rest.

But know that - If we meet again - I'm on to you. And as I have already proved, I'm not above doing whatever it takes to leave our next night together as your dancing queen.

Love and very, very sweaty hugs,
Your not-so-bitter Loser.