Meg

"Whatever you have to do to get through it, go ahead and do. Just don't stop. Finish the whole combination. This is the hardest thing you'll have to do today," said Meg.
The sweat collected on my furrowed brow. Stomach in. Pelvis striaght up. Hips square. Bottom held. Inner thigh wrapping. Chest lifted. Shoulders relaxed. Arms rotated. Good. My mind flew through its mental list of body placement. The salty drops on my forehead grew heavy and made their way down my swimming face.
"Scream if you have to! Just do it!" she hollered. Keep going. Get through it.
I tried not to tense my left hand, but discovered my white knuckled grip on the barre was much tighter than was necessary. I loosened it a bit, but my mind could not get over the searing pain in my right leg. It rond de jambed out extended straight to the side, in to retire at my knee, extended straight to the side, in to retire at my knee. Again. Keep going.
"Don't let that leg come below 90 degrees, ladies!" I cringed as I felt the drops roll off my chin and onto the ground. I kept circling the leg. Rotate out, wrap the inner thigh in, rotate out, wrap the inner thigh in.
"And last four," she called out. "Make them good." Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. The aching set in, and I could barely feel my standing leg, no way of knowing if it was turned out or not. Finish. The last painful rond de jamb en le aire closed to retire and it took all I had left (which wasn't very much) to bring it gracefully down to fifth position. Once there, I let it all go. I felt limp. Exausted. Jello-legged.
"Good."
Phew. We're done with that.
"Now do the other side."
*Sigh*