The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Shooting Myself in the Foot the Circusy Way

I’m in like a really good mood this week. Here’s why:

I went to Circus Class Sunday morning. It’s a mixed aerials class, so we do work on static trapeze, hoop, rope, sling and silks. This week my beginning group started on the silks (the long pieces of fabric that hang from the ceiling).

Whenever we do the silks, the instructor has us start with a climb to the ceiling to work on strength. I’d never made it all the way to the top before, because the instructor can always tell I’m exhausted and struggling and has me descend before I get so tired my arms just crack off and I go plummeting to the ground.

This week, there were a couple of super newbie girls in class who were being closely monitored so I was allowed to do my best alone on the initial climb. And because I’m never more competitive with anyone than myself, I took a deep breath, sucked it up and slogged my way to the very top. It wasn’t a beautiful or artistic climb. It didn’t appear effortless or ethereal. But goddamnit, I got to the fucking top without passing out or losing a limb.

Once I’d reached the top, I crossed my top leg over the silks and slid down, hand under hand, like I’ve been taught, and then collapsed on the ground, gasping and sweating, the muscles in my forearms pulsing and my fingers screaming.

I know what you’re thinking: Um… congratulations? I totally used to climb the rope in gym class. I always beat everyone to the top and didn’t even break a sweat.

And you’re right, your 8 year old, 75 pound self could probably kick my ass at this shit. But I’m working with a 35 year old body weighing [noneofyourbusiness/morethanthat] and I was pretty goddamn proud of myself.

Of course, while I was still trying to recover, my instructor came over and said, OK, Elizabeth, let’s see you climb! She was not particularly impressed when I told her I’d already done it and had made it all the way to the top.

Instructor: Did you ring the bell at the top?

Me: No! There’s a bell???

Instructor: Hahahaha, no.

She made me try it again with her watching. Of course this time I only made it 2/3rds of the way up before I just couldn’t convince my arms to work any more.

But I persevered and made it through the rest of class, even bungling my way through a trick called a half monte:

I left class more exhausted than I’ve maybe ever been, but determined to get better and stronger and to suck less next week.

Monday morning I woke up sore from head to toe, with fingers so achy I had trouble unplugging my iPhone from the charger, and had this conversation with myself:

Me: I should take a day or two off to recover.

Also Me: Yes, totally… if you want to be a pussy for the rest of your life.

Me: Dude, I’m like really in a lot of pain.

Also Me: No pain, no gain! Other platitudes! If you wait for all of your wounds to heal you’ll never get stronger! Get up and run and then later you need to do pull-ups!

Me: Settle down. I can’t even do pull-ups.

Also Me: OK, resist-downs. You can at least do some resist-downs every day this week to work on some of that forearm strength so you’re not so embarrassing next Sunday in class.

Me: Alright, alright. I’ll take some Aleve and we’ll try it your way this time.

And then, (in case you can’t guess where this is going) Monday night I did 5 resist-downs (where you jump up to the pull-up bar and try to lower yourself as slowly as you can) and completely jacked up my shoulder/back/neck. I’ve spent the last 36 hours utterly miserable and unable to do much but sit in one position without turning my head or using my right arm. Jason had to lift me off the ground two nights ago. I can’t roll over in bed at night without using my left hand to manually turn my head first.

So, yeah. Fuck you, Also Me. You’re super dumb.

Dream of Joining The Circus: pushed out one more week.

The kids are home for October break this week. I bought pumpkins to carve as a project, but Jonas says he’d rather color eggs.

Also? The jeans I’m wearing do not smell good. It’s possible the cat peed on them.

That’s where I’m at right this minute. Although I think the pain killers are starting to kick in. So there’s that.

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