Donald's Trapeze class
Mar. 25th, 2008 12:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sligachanSome of you know that I'm taking an occasional class in flying trapeze. It's true. Here are some pictures.
The description that follows the link is not for those with acrophobia! The rest of you may want to read before looking; the photos will probably make more sense.
http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a269/DonaldFR/Trapeze/Trapeze_Donald
This all got started when one of my partners and her children got invited to a birthday party featuring what I understood at the time to be a chance to play circus, and asked me along. I didn't really want to go. I like to do real things, not preted to do things. (I find Disneyland and similar venues monumentally unattractive -- though I do like science fiction and fantasy, so go figure.) I let myself be talked into it.
The event turned out to be at a professional school called Circus Center. We all got little classes from experts in circus arts. I spent a couple of hours failing to learn to juggle; a few more learning that I am no more capable of tumbling now than I was in secondary school. I fell in love with the flying trapeze -- even though I don't generally do well with heights and never would have suspected this of myself.
We get fitted with wide fabric safety belts like cummerbunds, and given a serious lecture about never doing anything we are not told to do and of doing what we are told at the exact time we are told to do it. Helped by a teacher, we take a few practice runs on a static trapeze bar near the ground, identical to the one in the air. Then, we're off.
Dip your hands in chalk then climb something over two storeys on a rickety metal ladder attached to a scaffolding-like metal tower. At the top is a platform a little more than twice the width of a 2x4. The scaffolding extends above your head so that you have something to hold on to.
Clasp the two parallel metal bars of scaffolding, separated by maybe ten centimeters, on the far side of the platform, while the teacher attaches safety lines to the safety belt. Retain your grip on the back vertical with your left hand, let go with your right and rotate around so that your toes extend over the edge of the platform. Try not to look down while waiting for the teacher to hook the trapeze bar with a long metal pole and reel it in. When she says to, reach out with your right hand to grip the bar. While being held by your left hand and the teacher gripping the back of your safety belt, thrust your pelvis out over infinity. I try it several times until she is satisfied that I have it right.
One of the hardest things I have ever done was to let go of the scaffolding with my left hand to grip the other side of the trapeze bar. Now I am held onto the platform by nothing but the teacher's grip on my belt, plus my increasingly sweaty grip on the trapeze bar. I am seriously scared; my acrophobia cares not one whit that there is a net a long way down, somewhere between me and the even more distant floor. It is a good thing I had practiced the motions on the ground first, because I am in no shape to do much thinking.
The teacher says, "Ready." I bend my knees. She says, "Hup!" Almost in spite of myself, I let go the platform with my toes and fall out. The first time, I simply swing, and I am far too scared for it to be much fun. A teacher on the ground grips the safety lines, keeping them clear and untangled, while shouting precise instructions. When he says, "Ready to let go," then, "Hup!" I can't let go. I swing back and forth once more. On the up-swing, "Hup!," and I manage let go the bar and fall to a mattress lying on the net.
While watching the other people in the party take their turns, or not, I work up the nerve to try it again. The second time still is not much fun, but I know what to expect and have time to think and appreciate the experience.
By the third attempt, I am having fun, although I am still only swinging. The next step is to try and get your legs over the bar. My partner's daughters handle this easily. My old body is too stiff to get my legs between my arms, so they have me hold the trapeze bar with my hands close together and swing my legs around the outside of the bar, then over it. This turns out to be easier than I had expected from the test runs on the static bar. They call the order right right at the moment of free fall when my swing reverses, which, combined with the reversing momentum, swings my legs up almost of their own accord.
That's all fine, but I am unable to achieve the next step: letting go the bar to hang from my knees. It takes me three more classes to get up the nerve to do that. Again, this turns out to be much easier than on the ground; they make the call at a time when I am at the top of the back-swing and I float easily down without much shock.
The next step is to get efficient enough at this process so that one of the teachers can time your swings. Then, at the top of your and their swings, they grab your arms and you transfer to the other trapeze bar, being held by the teacher in a double-arm grip, who releases you to fall to the mattress. After that, you learn the body motions to keep your swing going and to time your swing -- which, apparently, are subtle and difficult.
I don't know how far I'll go with this, but right now I'm having a blast. Apparently they have students into their sixties. If anyone wants to check it out, the Circus Center school offers "drop-in" basic "flying" classes every Saturday and Sunday morning. (But call in advance; they do sell out.)
http://www.circuscenter.org/index2.html
http://www.circuscenter.org/classes/sched_reg.html
-- Donald
The description that follows the link is not for those with acrophobia! The rest of you may want to read before looking; the photos will probably make more sense.
http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a269/DonaldFR/Trapeze/Trapeze_Donald
This all got started when one of my partners and her children got invited to a birthday party featuring what I understood at the time to be a chance to play circus, and asked me along. I didn't really want to go. I like to do real things, not preted to do things. (I find Disneyland and similar venues monumentally unattractive -- though I do like science fiction and fantasy, so go figure.) I let myself be talked into it.
The event turned out to be at a professional school called Circus Center. We all got little classes from experts in circus arts. I spent a couple of hours failing to learn to juggle; a few more learning that I am no more capable of tumbling now than I was in secondary school. I fell in love with the flying trapeze -- even though I don't generally do well with heights and never would have suspected this of myself.
We get fitted with wide fabric safety belts like cummerbunds, and given a serious lecture about never doing anything we are not told to do and of doing what we are told at the exact time we are told to do it. Helped by a teacher, we take a few practice runs on a static trapeze bar near the ground, identical to the one in the air. Then, we're off.
Dip your hands in chalk then climb something over two storeys on a rickety metal ladder attached to a scaffolding-like metal tower. At the top is a platform a little more than twice the width of a 2x4. The scaffolding extends above your head so that you have something to hold on to.
Clasp the two parallel metal bars of scaffolding, separated by maybe ten centimeters, on the far side of the platform, while the teacher attaches safety lines to the safety belt. Retain your grip on the back vertical with your left hand, let go with your right and rotate around so that your toes extend over the edge of the platform. Try not to look down while waiting for the teacher to hook the trapeze bar with a long metal pole and reel it in. When she says to, reach out with your right hand to grip the bar. While being held by your left hand and the teacher gripping the back of your safety belt, thrust your pelvis out over infinity. I try it several times until she is satisfied that I have it right.
One of the hardest things I have ever done was to let go of the scaffolding with my left hand to grip the other side of the trapeze bar. Now I am held onto the platform by nothing but the teacher's grip on my belt, plus my increasingly sweaty grip on the trapeze bar. I am seriously scared; my acrophobia cares not one whit that there is a net a long way down, somewhere between me and the even more distant floor. It is a good thing I had practiced the motions on the ground first, because I am in no shape to do much thinking.
The teacher says, "Ready." I bend my knees. She says, "Hup!" Almost in spite of myself, I let go the platform with my toes and fall out. The first time, I simply swing, and I am far too scared for it to be much fun. A teacher on the ground grips the safety lines, keeping them clear and untangled, while shouting precise instructions. When he says, "Ready to let go," then, "Hup!" I can't let go. I swing back and forth once more. On the up-swing, "Hup!," and I manage let go the bar and fall to a mattress lying on the net.
While watching the other people in the party take their turns, or not, I work up the nerve to try it again. The second time still is not much fun, but I know what to expect and have time to think and appreciate the experience.
By the third attempt, I am having fun, although I am still only swinging. The next step is to try and get your legs over the bar. My partner's daughters handle this easily. My old body is too stiff to get my legs between my arms, so they have me hold the trapeze bar with my hands close together and swing my legs around the outside of the bar, then over it. This turns out to be easier than I had expected from the test runs on the static bar. They call the order right right at the moment of free fall when my swing reverses, which, combined with the reversing momentum, swings my legs up almost of their own accord.
That's all fine, but I am unable to achieve the next step: letting go the bar to hang from my knees. It takes me three more classes to get up the nerve to do that. Again, this turns out to be much easier than on the ground; they make the call at a time when I am at the top of the back-swing and I float easily down without much shock.
The next step is to get efficient enough at this process so that one of the teachers can time your swings. Then, at the top of your and their swings, they grab your arms and you transfer to the other trapeze bar, being held by the teacher in a double-arm grip, who releases you to fall to the mattress. After that, you learn the body motions to keep your swing going and to time your swing -- which, apparently, are subtle and difficult.
I don't know how far I'll go with this, but right now I'm having a blast. Apparently they have students into their sixties. If anyone wants to check it out, the Circus Center school offers "drop-in" basic "flying" classes every Saturday and Sunday morning. (But call in advance; they do sell out.)
http://www.circuscenter.org/index2.html
http://www.circuscenter.org/classes/sched_reg.html
-- Donald
