Aerial Ballet/Trapeze School

On Monday, I was able to take an aerial ballet class. It was my very first, and right away, let me say, I was hooked.



Class was held in a very large, airplane-hangar-like building. There was a setup for trapeze beside the beams from which a very long swath of peacock-green cloth was suspended by carabineer. It was me, the instructor, and another person in the class while a bunch of people were on the trapeze platform.


The instructor had us begin with a basic climb, which I was nervous about mostly because I haven’t climbed a rope since, oh, fifth grade. Climbs involved wrapping the silk around your leg, making one foot flexed, and then stepping on the fabric on top of the opposite foot and using it like a stair. Slide your arms up, wrap, step, repeat. Sliding down, things got a little warm—cloth burn on my palms and feet and legs.


I tried a bunch of different things: wrist locks, ankle locks, a twisty-spinning thing, a couple of flips, some poses. It was really, really cool. Most of all, it was way less scary than I had anticipated. I was really intimidated to walk into the studio and try –I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to climb the fabric—but I managed to not only climb, but try all those various moves. I was really impressed by the instructor, who was able to break steps down and assist when needed (like when I swung a little too far out and came too close to a wall for comfort); randomly, she graduated from the same school I graduated from, and we have some mutual friends. The world is a small, small place.


I have another class next week, and I have to say, I am really looking forward to it. This is a hobby that combines three of my favorite things: spinning, flipping, and being airborne. Also: fighting gravity. The only thing about this that doesn’t make my heart race is the price—it is a little on the expensive side. But, because it is so much fun, and it is two people per class, I think its worth it right now.


So today is the dreaded delayed onset muscle soreness day. And boy oh boy am I sore. My wrists and ankles still look like I have ligature marks; my forearms are screaming; I haven’t been this aware of my ribs since I broke one in college. Oh, did I mention that my chest hurts when I breathe or sneeze? I got one heck of a workout at aerial ballet, and I am pumped.


I won’t be so pumped tonight when I go to my top rope refresher course and cant climb worth a hill of beans, but, whatever.