Saturday, February 5, 2011

This is Me :)

Hey there blogger world!

My name is Becca Fotheringham and I am a competition clogger. Clogging is my life. I don't know what I would do without it. I tried for my first semester of college and by the start of my second semester, I was back at the studio clogging away. That was a month ago, and I am so glad that I went back.

I have been dancing since I was 3, when my mom put me in a combo tap and ballet class. When I was 7, I started clogging, and have been clogging ever since.

Two years ago, I started competing in the solo competitions. I loved it, so last year in my concurrent writing class when we were told to write about a memoir in our lives, I chose my first solo competition.
This is my memoir.

Anxiety, Fear, Adrenaline, Relief, Excitement, Joy, Exhaustion

April 3rd, 2009- my first solo dance competition. 4:30 pm and just arriving at Dixie High School and already, there are complications. The coordinators have me performing in the gym, by my shoes aren’t allowed on the gym floor. I freak out a little. I call Cindy, but she has already taken care of it. My anxiety diminishes. Now all I can do is wait.
            Around 8 pm, it’s time to start getting ready. I get my costume, makeup, and hairpiece and head to the bathroom. Putting everything on, my heart starts to beat just a little faster. I get my Zune to warm-up and practice. My heart beats faster. I keep messing up the steps and get scared and frustrated. I go back into the auditorium, waiting to go backstage.
            I text Bryant, “I can’t do this.” His response is always, “Yes you can Becca! I believe in you.” I start to pace the end aisle. Jenny tells me to breath and I start to cry. “I can’t do this Jenny! I’m not ready!” “Yes you are Becca! You are one of the most amazing dancers I know, the one who actually can do this.” I start to cry even more. My mom finds me in the hall. We are both crying, so we say a prayer. My heart calms, but only a little. I stretch one last time. It’s time to go backstage.
            Six more dancers, then me: the last performer in the auditorium. I visualize the dance in my head. Cindy and Jenny are trying to calm me down. Three more dancers-I’m really freaking out. I stretch again just to occupy my mind. One more dancer and I am about to faint. I line up in the wings. The dancer exits the stage. As I prepare to go on, the judges call for a break to finish up their notes. I start to panic. I look into the audience and see someone. CeCe. She is there at the back of the hall, dancing crazy. That is what saves me.
            The announcer calls my name. I hear Jenny and Cindy. “Go for it girly!” “You are amazing!” I leave the comfort and agony of the wings and clog onto the open stage. My starting position is to the back. I can hear people calling my name. My heart is racing, my palms are dripping. There is no turning back. My music starts; I pop up my head and turn around. There are so many people. I focus on the steps, but a smile and facials are involuntary, they just come. It’s my worst nightmare, but also the time of my life. I’m a clogger and it’s showtime.
            Half way through I’m exhausted, but the energy flows. There is no stopping. Nearing the end, I make my first mistake. I turn too early, but I cover it well. There’s a second mistake, but I don’t realize it ‘til later, I just keep going. The last two steps are fast, almost too fast for an ending. My feet are flying. I am about to collapse. Going down for the pose, I hit it sharp. There is the biggest smile on my face. I clog off the stage into the wings and the arms of many. Teammates, coach and mom are all there to both comfort and congratulate.
            We all leave the auditorium. I call Dad, Michael, and Bryant to tell them I just finished. We file into the gym to wait for awards. I thank my team for coming to support me. We all dance crazy to blow steam. The awards start and I am shaking again. My turn in coming. We all hold hands in a circle. I close my eyes. My name is announced. I get a first place, but not queen- the top award in a category. I wonder why. There were no other cloggers today. I was in my own category, competing against myself. “It’s a new rule,” Cindy tells me. I think my awards are over. I relax.
            The announcer finishes the individual awards. Then, it’s time to announce the High Point Queens for the entire competition. I assume I have no chance because I didn’t queen in my category. Junior Amateur, Intermediate, Advanced. Teen Amateur, Intermediate, Advanced. Next is Elite Teen, my age group. No Elite Teen Amateur, so right to Intermediate-my category. I am only half paying attention, sort of hoping, but mostly doubting it will be me. The name is called, it doesn’t register right away. “Becca Fotheringham.” It hits me. I leap off the ground, up and down, screaming as I run to the awards table. Mom is right behind me with the camera. A sparkling sash is draped around me as I step up next to my six foot trophy. A crown is lowered to my head. I can’t stop smiling. A flashing camera hides the tears of a proud and happy mom.
            The awards finish. It’s time to go back to the hotel. We’re driving a tiny Honda Civic. The top of the trophy has to go between to two front seats. It’s 11:30 pm. We stop at Applebee’s so I can finally eat. We share the appetizer platter and I get a traditional strawberry lemonade. Just before I fall asleep, Mom tells me what I don’t want to hear. “Goodnight honey. Let’s go do it all again tomorrow for your team.” The heart beats start again.

I won High Point once more that year, at the Season's Nationals competition. I also competed a solo this past year and won High Point again. I don't mean to sound boastful, but I just love what I do and I love to share this wonderful talent that the Lord has given me. 

Anyways, I'm not usually a "super writer" like my father, but I do love taking pictures, and sharing the experiences that go with those pictures. So I think that is what this blog is mostly going to be like. 

Well anyways, for those of you still reading this, sorry it is so long.

This is me. This is my life. 

1 comment:

  1. I love this story. When it comes from the heart, the writing will always be good.

    Love, Dad


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