Friday, January 16, 2009

physical therapy

nope, this isn't a post about the daily regimen of shoulder exercises I'm still doing 15 months post surgery. or the knee exercises I ought to be doing.

or the pain of A.R.T., which has helped my shoulder immensely.

A friend of mine commented, when I complained about my current limbo-like state of employment and therefore my concern about the expense of trapeze classes and training, that "it's cheaper than couples counseling."

She's right.

Don't get me wrong -- I have a marriage I'm extremely happy in. He makes me fall over with laughter; he makes me feel safe and cherished and supported. El Bandito rocks my world, and I'm pretty sure that feeling is mutual.

But trapeze is, in some ways, a type of therapy. There's some truth in that.

I love running, hiking, and even walking because of the rhythm and the scenery and a hundred reasons.

And as long as I'm active, I'm generally pretty cheerful.

But trapeze is different.

Part of it is the sheer physical challenge, especially now that I'm back in advanced classes and learning new things.

Yesterday, I caught myself by my ankles dozens of times. Intentionally. From standing on the trapeze to hanging by my ankles. From sitting on the trapeze to hanging by my ankles. From hanging by my knees to hanging by my ankles. These aren't new things, but they're things I'm getting better and better at.

When I'm on the trapeze, I can't think of anything other than what I'm doing with my body.

I spent some several minutes fighting my (irrational) fear of a simple trick: "butt balance". Which is hard to explain, but is basically, balancing on your butt on the trapeze, hence the name. There are a bunch of different balances in static trapeze (back balance, front balance, butt balance, straddle back balance to name a few), and each of them has been a challenge to learn. Finding the balance and maintaining the pose takes a lot of concentration and coordination.

Those hours of my week? there's nothing else.

and I love them for that.

Not to mention the endorphins, the sore muscles, the feeling that I've used my body well, the tired abs, the bruises (as I hopped in the shower tonight post-run, El Bandito counted 10 on my lower body alone, from abrupt contact with the bar or ropes).

And then I'm too exhausted to worry about whether I'm employed after February 1st, and if so, where.

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