My life in the circus.
The house lights were down, spotlights set to the three trapezes - one for each ring under the giant blue and white big top. The 2,000-seat arena was nearly vacant -- filled with coaches and family members and other performers. I climbed the rope to my spot on the bar, rigged as high as it could go for this last Saturday rehearsal before the shows began again on Monday. The routine started and I performed the first few sequences with ease. And then came my long-time foe: the one-arm stand.
Seven months earlier, only days into my first year of middle school and new to Sarasota, FL, I had joined the Sailor Circus: a year-long circus program sponsored by the county school board. The circus was comprised entirely of kids aged 8-18 and required a 6-day-a-week commitment to the program. For the first four months, we showed up every day after school to try out for the acts that interested us. That December, I was selected to be in three acts: tumbling, clowns, and most exciting, the static trapeze. We spent January through March practicing our acts and running through the show. Practice time ended in late March—at which point two weeks of shows were held in the arena.
The circus was my first serious commitment to...anything. And it was no joke. This wasn't about showing up to perform, it was being involved in every single aspect of the operation. We cleaned bathrooms and chairs and floors. We recovered equipment and made sparkly things sparklier and painted anything that needed it. On the Saturdays that we didn't do cleaning detail we performed in parades or at nursing homes. During show season we sold tickets and popcorn and programs. Anyone in middle school or older was taught to rig equipment - positioning and tying off ropes and adjusting pulleys and generally assuming some responsibility for the safety of our friends who were 50 or 60 or 100 feet up in the air.
The static trapeze act was officially the "Middle School Production" and was comprised of a trapeze in each of the three rings. Each trapeze held six people and the lowest point was about 15-20 feet off the ground. We reached the trapeze by swiftly and gracefully climbing a rope (a feat in and of itself!), and once settled we performed a series of synchronized movements. The one-arm stand was the hardest and even after months and months of practice I couldn't nail it. The move required balancing your entire body weight on (you guessed it) one arm while gracefully dangling the rest of your body from the trapeze. I'd fallen from the bar during previous rehearsals. And during my first show I couldn't make my way back to the bar and had to descend early...standing there poised (and moritified) as my peers finished the act. My coach pulled me aside after that; she taught me how to fake it for the sake of the show and my safety and offered to reevaluate the situation at the dress rehearsal before the second week of shows.
In that moment, I was relieved that my coach gave me an out for this beast of a move. And I was embarrassed and felt inadequate and saw this as further proof of my inherently limited athleticism. And most of all - I was determined to get this mother fucker right. My dad found out where the circus procured trapezes and bought one for the garage. That first week of shows I faked it during the performances and went home to practice late into the night. After seven months of practice and a week of willful determination something clicked. The one-arm stand was mine. I pulled my coach aside at the dress rehearsal and told her I was ready...knowing that if I could successfully do it that evening I'd officially be allowed to stop faking it.
The lights down, the first sequences of the routine out of the way, and my moment came. I felt everyone watching collectively hold their breath. They all knew that I hadn't been able to do it, and that I'd been faking it. And turn-two-three, one-arm-stand-two-three, turn to the front-two-three and it was done. The applause was immediate and my smile was the biggest it's ever been. We finished the routine, and I descended the rope ready to take on the next week of sold-out shows. At the time, I didn't know that accomplishment would be such a touchstone...the one-arm stand still holds the top spot in the "if I did that, I can do anything" list and would later propel me to run marathons and complete all-night study sessions and make some seriously adult decisions.
