The tent @ Trapeze School New York. No, that's not me flying through the air - and we went at night.
Taking a flying trapeze class kicked my ass. Somehow jumping out of a plane with a guy strapped to my back in September didn't scare me, but grabbing a 10 lb. bar while dangling off a platform 23 ft. above the ground did.
Granted, I couldn't see anything because I didn't dare to wear glasses (and couldn't get my act together in time to come up with another solution). The whole experience is so disorienting - flying through the air, not seeing anything, all the echoes of the tent and the traffic of the West Side Highway blending together...I knew that there was someone yelling instructions to me, but I couldn't hear it. I also knew - intellectually - what my body was supposed to be doing, but I had no idea what my body actually was doing.
In fact, I still don't know - looking at the bruises I have on my knees, upper arm and side, clearly something kicked my ass. Could it really have been the net I landed on?
Overall I'm really glad I did it - after all, as Tim said, bemoaning that you're not good at trapeze is like saying you're no good at swimming with sharks. But still, I can't help but say, I totally sucked.
Hopefully in retrospect I can look back on it with fondness, remembering Manny, the hot guy that strapped me in. In the meantime, my muscles are killing me and I can barely get dressed in the morning, and I know I'll probably never see Manny again. Thank God for Deborah, my massage therapist at Crunch. Oh, sweet relief....