DuBose: Doctor's appointment, trapeze lessons – it's all the same
I have a confession to make. That day last week when I signed Noah out of school? He didn’t have a doctor’s appointment. He had a trapeze lesson.
“But Mom,” he said, as he laughed and ran to catch the bus, “if you sign me out of school, please just tell them I have a doctor’s appointment.”
Doctor, trapeze, same thing, right? Not exactly, but at least he got some physical activity when he was supposed to be in gym class. And so did I.
After all, I wasn’t gonna let my kid have all the fun.
When I learned that my friend, Linda McReynolds, was involved with the Trapeze School of New York at its Chicago location, and that it was offering a two-hour introductory class last Friday for only a buck (a $56 savings), I just couldn’t pass it up.
Were we scared? A little, but it was mostly excitement we felt. I even wore my “Wicked” T-shirt emblazoned with its “Defying gravity” slogan over my unitard. I was ready.
“Once you do it the first time, it’s not scary at all,” Noah volunteered after his first “flight,” and I agreed.
In fact, once I climbed up to the platform the first time, I was so preoccupied with remembering what to do and with listening for the instructor’s commands that I had very little awareness of fear. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t done it myself, but it’s true. I have to admit, though, that the 30-foot climb and the ensuing adrenaline rush prompted me to stall on the platform and catch my breath. Breathing seemed like an important part of the flying experience, and I wasn’t about to muck it up by fainting mid-flight.
It’s important to know your limits. Noah knew his, too.
“I’ll just hang this time,” he said, before leaving the safety of the platform his first time out, after the instructor gave him the option to try something more complicated. His confidence in setting this limit for himself made me prouder than the knee hang and flip he quickly mastered during his next turn.
I followed Noah’s lead and just swung with my hands on the bar during my first “flight.” The next time I attempted the knee hang, but my timing was off – because, I think, I just couldn’t fathom trusting I could do it yet, which caused me to lose the momentum I needed to muscle my feet up and over the bar. But my third time off the platform, I got the hang of it.
Before long, we both learned how to flip away from the bar and land safely in the net, with a little help from Dave and Steve, the instructors who took turns expertly manning and leveraging the ropes attached to our safety belts and ensuring that we wouldn’t land on our heads in the net. Kelly, the instructor on the platform who cheered us on was awesome, too. She said all the right things and made sure we were ready.
Toward the end of our lesson, my adrenaline began to fade. I was tired. Sure, I was a gymnast 25 years ago, but that was 25 years ago.
“Mommy needs a nappy now,” I whimpered to Dave as he unhooked my harness after a turn.
“But we’re gonna catch next,” he replied.
“Catch?” Oh right, I remembered; next we were going to hang from our knees and be caught by Steve, who’d be hanging from his own bar.
The utter absurdity of the whole thing began to really dawn on me. After all, I’m not 20-something anymore. Or even 30-something.
“I wonder if I can catch some ZZZ’s first?” I quipped, hoping I could muster the energy I knew I’d need. I didn’t, and couldn’t get the timing right. Our hands did meet midflight, but not with a grasp convincing enough for him to command me to release my knees from the bar and fly with him.
Noah was too pooped to make the magic happen, too, but we’d made enough progress for one day. We’ll get it right next time.
“They seem to expect more of you than you think you can even do. Well, that’s something I can check off my bucket list,” Noah said with a satisfied grin as I backed the car out of our parking spot.
He reclined his seat. I was so jealous. Weary or not, I had to drive home.
“That was no prissy thing we just did,” he whispered, before dropping off to sleep.
Author’s note: Want to try flying for yourself? Check out www.chicago.trapezeschool.com or call 773-484-8861 for more information.
• Jennifer DuBose is a contributor for the Kane County Chronicle. She lives in Batavia with her husband, Todd, and their two children, Noah and Holly. She can be reached at jenniferdubose@msn.com.
