My Big Leap of Faith
In the summer of 2011, I was enroute to a speaking engagement when the cover of an airline magazine caught my attention: Run Away to Circus School! According to the article, you could actually learn to fly on a trapeze.
“Who’d be crazy enough to do that?” I laughed.
(Spoiler alert: Me.)
The next day at the hotel gym, I found myself watching a rerun of Sex and the City. There was Carrie Bradshaw, suspended upside down from a trapeze, paralyzed with fear while her circus coach coaxed her to let go.
(Two trapeze references in two days. Coincidence? I don’t think so.)
I remembered the fearless 8-year-old I used to be – the one who couldn’t wait to try gymnastics and approached each new trick with unshakable enthusiasm. That girl didn’t ask, “Can I do this?” She simply said, “Let’s have fun!”
Inspired, I Googled “Circus School, California.” Turns out there was one just 40 minutes from my home in San Diego.
I sighed. “Uh-oh. I guess I’m going to Circus School.”
A week later, I arrived at what appeared to be a private home. Out back loomed an enormous trapeze rig. I craned my neck and squinted my eyes to see the top platform that looked about a mile high from where I was standing.
“I hope it’s not too late for a refund.”
Before I could escape, a voice shouted, “Zann! Is Zann here?”
After signing a terrifying stack of liability forms, I joined two fellow newbies: Evan, tall and mellow; Jerry, athletic and upbeat. Both were in their twenties. I was the only one over fifty. Our coach, Tom – tattooed, muscular, mid-forties – barked orders like a Marine sergeant.
“Welcome to Ground School!” he announced and then proceeded to call us only by our last names.
Tom gave us the rundown: safety protocols, takeoff stance, the commands – “Listo” (ready), “Ready” (step up), and “Hep” (go!).
I got strapped in, climbed the 60-foot ladder, and met Sarah, the assistance at the top who replaced my ground safety line with an aerial one. My heart pounded out of my chest like a cartoon character’s.
“Listo! … Ready! … Hep!” I leapt.
Suddenly, I was flying through the air. At Tom’s call – “Dismount!” – I released, slammed into the net, and it knocked the wind out of me.
“Off the net, Zann!” Tom ordered. Crawling off, my legs felt like Jell-O. Before I could entertain doubts about going back up there, I heard, “Zann, front and center!”
I joined Tom and “the boys” back at Ground School, where Tom introduced the “Knee Hang.” Timing was everything: swing, pull your legs up at the weightless moment, release hands.
Evan and Jerry nailed it. I needed a step stool just to reach the bar. It took all my effort to swing my legs up and let go. And this was just practice – on the ground.
Next, we’d be doing it in the air.
I climbed the ladder, flew out, and tried to hook my legs. I missed and hung there defeated. I let go and landed on the net, humiliated. Tom allowed me another attempt. Another failure.
A team member took me over to the practice mat and proceeded to teach me what to do with my body to master the trick. He explained how to use the momentum of the swing, squeeze my butt and arch my back to get the necessary leverage to raise my legs through my arms and over the bar. It finally made sense.
For the first time since I’d arrived, I was beginning to believe in myself. I marched back to Tom and said with conviction, “I’ve got this.”
Back on the platform. “Listo! … Ready! … Hep!”
This time, I squeezed, arched, and YES! My legs flew up and hooked the bar. At Tom’s command, I released my hands and swung upside down.
A joyous stream of expletives escaped my lips. And I thought, “Take that, Carrie Bradshaw!”
Then Tom called us over to explain the pièce de résistance: the catch.
“Randy, the catcher, will swing on a second trapeze. When you’re in the Knee Hang with arms outstretched, reach for him. Once he’s got you, release your legs and fly to him.”
WHAT?! Fly to him?! I was a beginner! This was madness.
Fast forward: I’m back on the platform. I leap. I hook my legs successfully over the bar, hang upside down, and swing towards Randy.
CRASH!
The wind gets knocked out of me. I dangle from the safety wires 60 feet in the air, head spinning, ribs on fire. They lower me to the net.
Tom yelled, “Zann! You weren’t listening! You let go before Randy caught you!”
I stepped away to gather my thoughts. I began to make a compelling case for quitting.
I grimaced and gently put my hand over the searing pain in my side.
This was my moment of truth. I had two options: quit or give it one final try.
To be continued… Can I conquer my fear and complete the catch? Find out in our next edition: “Catching Courage – The Final Leap”