Several years ago, after a long hiatus from public
performances which were few and far between because of raising kids, working two jobs, etc., I was asked
to play the pipe organ (my Masters Degree is in organ performance), in a
shared concert with other local musicians. I felt like Bruce Jenner
(Olympic gold medalist in the decathlon) coming back into the arena,
yet, 40 pounds overweight. I practiced my tail off for a couple of
months. My two pieces were a Mendelssohn organ sonata which had many
technical difficulties, and the second piece was a prelude and fugue by
J. S. Bach The Bach piece is one of the warhorse signature pieces that
puts hair on your chest just thinking about playing it.
The week before the concert I bought a pair of new organ shoes (Capezio men's dance shoes with leather soles and leather heels) since my old pair were about worn out. At the last minute I decided not to wear the new ones since they had not been “broken in” by the time of the performance. Breaking in new organ shoes, yet, deciding to wear the old ones is like preferring to wear an old jockstrap that has been through the wash many times and fits comfortably instead of wearing a new one for that important game.
The pipe organ has such a majestic sound that I was asked to be last in the performance lineup. Thus, I had to wait through all the other performances before I appeared on stage. Your description of the healthy fear of dead lifts and the other physical and emotional things one has to do to prepare for the dead lift are very similar to the psychology and stamina of a musical performance. I mounted the organ bench and played the stew out of the Mendelssohn. Then, the Bach. I had done well with the first piece but I wasn't sure I would have the physical and psychological muscle to play the Bach. All of a sudden, deep in my spirit there was a welling up of confidence and the thought ran through my head, "Hey, these folks are lucky to hear me play." The opening notes of the prelude were sounded and I knew that I was committed to the race until the final note As the piece became more animated and complicated I realized how much I was enjoying the beauty of Bach's masterpiece. As I sailed into the final pedal solo cadenza, I imagined myself running into the Olympic stadium, the first place winner in the marathon.
The final chord throughout the church, and I jumped off the organ bench and pumped my fist into the air and said with a lusty growl "YES." I happened to experience much applause which was great, but the best thing was not the applause but that I had done it! As I walked back to the green room, I began to notice that something seemed wrong with my feet. I looked down and to my surprise, my old organ shoes (leather soles) were totally coming apart at the soles. My feet had perspired so profusely from all the energy I had expended to play that the soles of my shoes had become soggy, crumpled paper. My feet had even broken through the soles. I took the shoes off, threw them in the trash, and went home a happy man..
The week before the concert I bought a pair of new organ shoes (Capezio men's dance shoes with leather soles and leather heels) since my old pair were about worn out. At the last minute I decided not to wear the new ones since they had not been “broken in” by the time of the performance. Breaking in new organ shoes, yet, deciding to wear the old ones is like preferring to wear an old jockstrap that has been through the wash many times and fits comfortably instead of wearing a new one for that important game.
The pipe organ has such a majestic sound that I was asked to be last in the performance lineup. Thus, I had to wait through all the other performances before I appeared on stage. Your description of the healthy fear of dead lifts and the other physical and emotional things one has to do to prepare for the dead lift are very similar to the psychology and stamina of a musical performance. I mounted the organ bench and played the stew out of the Mendelssohn. Then, the Bach. I had done well with the first piece but I wasn't sure I would have the physical and psychological muscle to play the Bach. All of a sudden, deep in my spirit there was a welling up of confidence and the thought ran through my head, "Hey, these folks are lucky to hear me play." The opening notes of the prelude were sounded and I knew that I was committed to the race until the final note As the piece became more animated and complicated I realized how much I was enjoying the beauty of Bach's masterpiece. As I sailed into the final pedal solo cadenza, I imagined myself running into the Olympic stadium, the first place winner in the marathon.
The final chord throughout the church, and I jumped off the organ bench and pumped my fist into the air and said with a lusty growl "YES." I happened to experience much applause which was great, but the best thing was not the applause but that I had done it! As I walked back to the green room, I began to notice that something seemed wrong with my feet. I looked down and to my surprise, my old organ shoes (leather soles) were totally coming apart at the soles. My feet had perspired so profusely from all the energy I had expended to play that the soles of my shoes had become soggy, crumpled paper. My feet had even broken through the soles. I took the shoes off, threw them in the trash, and went home a happy man..
