It was over before it even really began. At 16 years old, in ballet company practice, I watched a childhood dream crumble before me in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors as my knee crumbled, dislocating to the horror of the dancers all around me. I wasn't doing anything strenuous when I suffered the injury that would knock me out of ballet forever. I was simply standing at the barre, warming up, something I did every day as I rehearsed with my company for hours.
But every night, I was performing in "The Nutcracker," and had been practicing the ballet for weeks. And that, as it turns out, is a lot.
