FEAR FACTOR CLOGGING
Director Linda Carolan writes:
A sea of brightly colored
bodies streamed by, completely filling two lanes of the street in downtown San Antonio. A multitude of arms waved joyfully toward us
in acknowledgement as the individuals to whom they were attached raced steadily
onward. The throbbing arches of my
aching feet gently reminded me of the 30 degree angle of the stage upon which I
was poised. Our taps beat out a staccato
rhythm on the wooden planks of the flatbed truck which just happened to be
precariously blocking an entire lane of one of the busiest streets of the Alamo
City. “Good morning, everybody, we’re
the Fire on the Mountain Cloggers and we are so proud to be a part of the
entertainment during the Race for the Cure.
Keep on running. Keep on
walking. We are coming together here
today for an extremely worthy cause.”
The whoosh of the vehicles
passing directly below us was a constant reminder that one clogging misstep
would result 
in some permanent damage. The occasional bus or delivery van that
rumbled past directly in front of our faces left not only a faint whiff of
diesel fumes, but the realization that there was no room for error.
Clogging four feet in the air
perilously close to the passing traffic might be considered a thrill for the
stout hearted few. Hey! Watch the mirror
on that city bus. Whew! Suck it in, Ron. When my contact told me that we would be
performing our dances on Stage 6 at the Race for the Cure, I was curious about
the location and the exact dimensions.
Our flatbed truck stage boasted the following attributes: four feet tall, seven feet deep, 48 feet
wide, no railing, and a not so gentle downhill slope toward the back.
Perched on the edge of the
tilted platform, a dancer had to either bend the knees to maintain balance or
lean forward, distributing the majority of the weight on the toes. No room for slackers in this group.
Our viewers consisted of a
steady stream of runners and later on, walkers.
It was like dipping your toe in the San Antonio River; the current
constantly brought a new and changing audience for our clogging performance. The three-mile race began at the AlamoDome
with thousands of participants. They
raced or walked along a set route, with a major turn at the corner of Alamo
Street (We ARE in San Antonio you know … yes, the Alamo itself is only a few
blocks away) and Market Street.
Strategically placed at this vital corner turn in the race route, the
Fire on the Mountain Cloggers entertained approximately 25,000 individuals in
the space of an hour and fifteen minutes.
We were originally given
instructions that we could choose to dance a while, wave a while. However, in the heat of the moment, we chose
to clog, clog, clog. The dancers rotated
out for each routine as the runners/walkers passed by. I am confident that, when compared
impartially, our “workout” was almost equivalent to that of the official
participants.
On a more serious note, Tom
Bower, San Antonio Express-News
describes the somber motive behind the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure: “The names … were printed on pink placards,
silk-screened on T-shirts, painted on hand-carried signs displayed by the
racers, joggers and walkers who crossed the finish line. The names were of breast cancer survivors and
of those who have died …” However, the
atmosphere during the Race itself was not one of despair and grief, but of joy
and hope. The annual Race represented an
opportunity to join together to support research for a cure for this deadly
disease and the Fire on the Mountain Cloggers were most proud to be a part of the Race for the Cure.