I am officially excited. (Can’t you tell by my tone of typing?)
Last June, Cla, BNB and I drove up to Baltimore to try our hand at flying through the air with the greatest of ease. Flying through the air, check. Greatest of ease, not so much. First, there was the little matter of climbing to the top platform, holding on to a deceptively heavy bar while leaning over the edge, and trusting the instructor to hold on to you by your belt. (Oh, hey trust issues. Haven’t seen you in a while – how’s it going?)
But as scary as that initial climb and jump are (yes, you have you jump off the ledge – they won’t push you, I asked), I was hooked after that first class. For two hours we learned how to jump, swing, hook our knees over the bar, and fall – which had more skill involved than I thought. And at the end, we attempted a catch. Cla and BNB were successful:
(That one was Cla.)
I, however, was not:
Regardless of my failure, I was determined to attend another class, so Cla and I signed up for the package deal. After another two hour session, we learned single legs (totally technical term) and splits.
And we got to attempt another catch.
Now that trapeze school is practically down the street (and a few metro stops away), I’ll be able to brush up on my maneuvers. My knee hook was getting a little rusty. Plus, it’s a great upper body workout (i.e. you’ll feel sore as hell the next day, but it’ll be completely worth it).
Who’s in? Just think of how great “circus training” will look on your resume.