Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world. -- Voltaire

I hurt myself.

Yesterday.

On my 40th birthday.

I should make up some fabulous reason as to what I was doing. Saving a kitten from a tree. Doing a handstand for two hours as a thought-provoking performance art piece. Playing ping-ping with George Clooney (you can read that literally or figuratively).

Alas, none of these are true.

I hurt myself playing Freeze Dance. With 19 five-year-olds. On my 40th birthday. The humor is not lost on me, this happening on my birthday. Why did I get hurt? Is it because I am now too old to play Freeze Dance? I refuse to think this.

Sure, I could blame the kids. Say they were hogging the dance floor, so I wasn’t able to fully let my dancing maverick loose. I could blame it on the fact that I was wearing the wrong shoes (black riding boots do not lend themselves to The Hustle as much as you may think). I could blame my husband…for no real reason except he, too, was freeze dancing and he didn’t hurt anything. But that would make me an ornery, grumpy, old person.

Not a good way to usher in my new decade.

So, I shall not cast blame. As I ice my foot, I shall figure out why this happened.

(Insert crickets.)

I shall. Really, as I pop some Advil, I shall.

(Insert 17 minutes of “Dancing with The Stars.”)

Okay. I’ve got it. Why did I get hurt on my 40th birthday, wearing non-dancing shoes, trying to compete with little ones that are one-eighth of my age in a physical competition in a confined space?

It’s not because I am old.

It’s because I need new moves.

I now know that, sometimes, no matter how old you are, you need a few new moves.

And that Voltaire was wrong.

This was originally published on May 1, 2012.