Trapeze Class

Today I finish my 6-week trapeze class with sore muscles, aching hands, and the skin nearly rubbed raw off my ankles and inner arms. But I can tell you that those things will heal, likely within the week, and that the skin underneath will be stronger and tougher. Maybe not prettier, but stronger. 

The muscles in my back, arms, and abs are a bit more defined and ready to support me should I find myself hanging precariously off a cliff someday. I will, no doubt, be able to hang upside down by my knees off a branch or jungle gym, and even swing myself up to safety (maybe) if I need to. But those are far-fetched scenarios. The truth is, trapeze class transformed my mind more than anything.

I used to consider myself an athlete. That was before three kids and some rockin’ hernia surgery, before I took 6 years off from any regular exercise other than gardening and walking around the neighborhood pushing a stroller. Somewhere along the way I lost confidence in that body. Which is ridiculous, right? Because what could be more athletic than growing three separate human beings inside of you, all the while still carrying on and living life? What could be more athletic than giving birth to those tiny people, then breastfeeding them and carrying them on your body nearly all the time for years?

It’s a perspective change, really, and I needed it. Sometimes it takes reading something to spark that change of perspective, and for me, it came in the form of a chapter from a book: Women, An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier. The chapter Cheap Meat: Learning to Make a Muscle was full of ah-ha’s for me. In particular, the importance of muscle mass in womens’ bodies- for maintaining their weight, the strength of their bones, and for staving off many diseases and arthritis.

The more a young woman exerts herself before the age of twenty-five, while her skeleton is as yet a work in progress, the more robust her bones will be at their peak… Vigorous, load-bearing activities such as running, gymnastics, and weightlifting can all augment a young woman’s bone mass… Young women who build a foundation of muscle will find it easier throughout life to recall that muscle from mothballs. (bold print emphasis added) Angier, page 319.

It seems as though muscles remember. Angier goes on to say that even women in their seventies, eighties, and nineties who started up a weightlifting routine while “not holding back for fear of their frailty or fear that they might, heavens, ‘bulk up,’ but with intensity, using as high a weight as the women can manage” grew astonishingly strong after only four months, and able to participate more fully in life. They became stronger than they had been in middle age, for pete’s sake. Also, it must be noted, they did not bulk up and become visibly larger- unfortunately a fear so many women have that keeps them from really going for it with weight. If you think about it, a dancer supports her own body weight and still becomes long and lean. Hanging from a trapeze seems to have a similar effect, from my own observations.

Not holding back for fear of their frailty. YES!

There is also the fear. The trick below was at the top of my fears, mainly because the letting go part requires that your body position is just so on the trapeze so that you do not fall on your head:

I did not hang down too long, but at least I let go! 

I haven’t decided if I will continue with trapeze. It was a bit too much of a commute for me, and required me to leave smack in the middle of the boys’ dinnertime in order to get there just as the class started (even then I was often late due to traffic- go figure). With Andrew teaching and traveling a lot this semester, my schedule is not as open as it was these past two months. For now, I will take a break from it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I go back and take the class again in the spring or summer. What has happened, however, is that a few doors in my mind have been blown clear off their hinges. I am hungry for more, my muscles remember. 

And so, I look forward to another physical challenge. 

I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes, but I have a pretty darn good feeling already that I’m going to be sore… but happy.

P.s.- If you live in St. Louis, try out Bumbershoot– the instructors are fiesty, experienced, hilarious, and will push you farther than you expected you could go!

P.p.s.- Thank you, Ingrid, for getting me into this mess. I love you, darlin’!