Rope Burn: An Adventure in Humility
Oh, my few remaining readers, remember those halcyon days when I returned from the Dominican Republic feeling stronger, smarter, and more flexible, capable of achieving all things in relation to the aerial circus arts? That was nice, wasn't it? I'd grown comfortable with the idea that, while I will never be as good as my teachers, who can and do devote themselves full-time to training, that I was not too shabby for a girl with a day job. It was this spike of overweening optimism that caused me to sign up for a five-week rope "master class" taught by a visiting aerialist from Australia.
When I came to warm up and I didn't recognize any of the people in the master class, that should have been a warning. When I noticed that all of the other people in the master class were men, that should have been a warning too. Look upon those biceps, ye mighty, and despair. When the instructor, a cheerful blond Australian Ken doll, started us a twisty variation on toe climb that required either much greater toe strength or a far better one-arm hang than I currently posses, I should have prepared myself for a five-week lesson in humility. When women showed up to class and they were teenage former national gymnasts and supernaturally flexible yoga instructors, I probably should have stayed home. Working out with professional aerialists and teenagers that are mostly made of cartilage makes me feel like a clumsy visitor from the Land of the Troll People. I would not subject my fragile self-esteem to this kind of abuse if only is wasn't so effective.
I never did make much progress with the twisty variation on the toe climb, but my regular toe climb is much improved. I now have the callous between my toes that allows me to climb the rope without needing to haul myself up with both hands. I can hipkey climb to the top of the rope--the secret is to start in meathook. I have improved my beats, which has enabled me to do a lot more of the dynamic, swinging rope tricks that have always impressed me, but have never really been my style. I can do a couple of the more spectacular open drops out of back balance, even if I prefer to do them when I'm not too high up in the air because I'm still a little skittish about the possibility of missing the rope. I have landed (deliberately) flat on my back on the crash mat so many times that my neck is sore.
I am humbled by how much more there is to learn, but I am pleased to have made some progress.
When I came to warm up and I didn't recognize any of the people in the master class, that should have been a warning. When I noticed that all of the other people in the master class were men, that should have been a warning too. Look upon those biceps, ye mighty, and despair. When the instructor, a cheerful blond Australian Ken doll, started us a twisty variation on toe climb that required either much greater toe strength or a far better one-arm hang than I currently posses, I should have prepared myself for a five-week lesson in humility. When women showed up to class and they were teenage former national gymnasts and supernaturally flexible yoga instructors, I probably should have stayed home. Working out with professional aerialists and teenagers that are mostly made of cartilage makes me feel like a clumsy visitor from the Land of the Troll People. I would not subject my fragile self-esteem to this kind of abuse if only is wasn't so effective.
I never did make much progress with the twisty variation on the toe climb, but my regular toe climb is much improved. I now have the callous between my toes that allows me to climb the rope without needing to haul myself up with both hands. I can hipkey climb to the top of the rope--the secret is to start in meathook. I have improved my beats, which has enabled me to do a lot more of the dynamic, swinging rope tricks that have always impressed me, but have never really been my style. I can do a couple of the more spectacular open drops out of back balance, even if I prefer to do them when I'm not too high up in the air because I'm still a little skittish about the possibility of missing the rope. I have landed (deliberately) flat on my back on the crash mat so many times that my neck is sore.
I am humbled by how much more there is to learn, but I am pleased to have made some progress.