Last month, as I was enjoying my first coffee of the day at a canal-side café in Venice, a woman approached my table. She was relatively young – perhaps in her mid-20s – and, judging by her accent, French.
“Can I ask you a weird question?” she said, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her cross-body bag.
She had come to the right place! Little did she know, I live for weird questions. In my experience, it’s how many great stories start. Judging from the woman’s body language, this was no exception.
“I’m going to burn,” she said, gesturing to the sun overhead, which even at 9 a.m. was casting a scorching glare on her porcelain skin. “Would you be able to apply sunscreen to my back?”
As far as requests go, that was a slightly strange thing to ask of a stranger. But what was really unfortunate was that she happened to ask me, a woman who, during the course of the past year, has developed thick calluses on both hands as a result of an 8-hour aerial weekly training regimen.
I looked down at my hands under the table and winced. On this particular day, the calluses weren’t really the problem. It was more the rest of my skin, which had become dry and chapped since landing in Italy. It turns out that my rope work wasn’t just building my muscles and toughening my skin – it also had an exfoliating effect. Without my regular training sessions to sloth off my damaged skin, my palms and fingers had become rough and jagged all over.
For days, Valtteri and I had been cracking jokes about my cracking skin, the fingers that could snag lightweight fabrics and grate semi-soft cheese. Skin that was so sharp and ragged that it would leave a mark whenever it touched the flesh of a well-hydrated human being.
I sighed and looked back at the girl, an unsuspecting soul who surveyed all the tables at a trendy café for what she believed would be the least disgusting option to have a stranger lay hands on her. I felt sorry for her, that she somehow managed to pick the person who was part lizard from the wrist on.
“Here’s the thing,” I told her, which, in my experience, is how many disappointing stories start. “I’m a gymnast,” I said, opening both hands to reveal the topographical map of my skin, the patchwork of lines and flakes, set between the high and hardened bits.
“It’s a little gross,” I said, mostly so she wouldn’t have to. “I would understand if you wanted to ask someone else.”
“Oh I don’t mind,” she insisted, dropping her sunscreen bottle into my catcher’s mitt of a hand.
Whether she was being honest or polite, I’ll never know. But I decided to get on with it, lest she think I was the one in need of manners.
I tried as best I could to make it pleasant, to use the least offensive bits of my hands to massage sunscreen into this woman’s perfectly moisturized skin – skin that she was ironically trying to protect from the elements.
Practically speaking, I understand why I am embarrassed about my skin. My hands, after months of training, are now an affront to three of the five senses. They look ugly. They feel rough. And, sometimes, when I place my palm on a smooth, flat surface, it makes an odd tapping noise that sounds a lot like dog nails on a hardwood floor.
Then again, I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed. After all, these hands do work. I earned my calluses the unusual way, hauling myself up and down a rope, swinging from the ceiling, sliding them this way and that, landing in positions that should be impossible. These hands of mine are strong. They are sure. In the case of an emergency, I know that they will hold. My hands are my reminder, my proof, any time someone suggests I am soft, that they are wrong and I am tough. “Go ahead and try me,” is the message that they send. “I’ve been through worse.”
I have to stop apologizing for my hands. Because they don’t just do work. They perform tricks. They make magic.
Every time I train, I can see that. And feel it too.
There are aerial courses at my local climbing gym that I have been interested in trying. Everyone looks so svelte and flexible! I’m not usually intimidated, but I’m also 50+ and worried about injury and also looking like a doofus. It also looks like a lot of core work which my core is not a big fan of. Still, I’ve been wanting to give it a try.
I’ve been watching your videos. Was it hard to build up the strength or flexibility to not look like a doofus? Or did you just come by your skills naturally?
OK, right off the bat – just go for it. If you’re interested in trying, then try! I wouldn’t worry about injury at the absolute beginner level because, quite frankly, you practice everything from the ground with both hands on the silks. An instructor should also be around to spot you and make sure your form is OK. (Finding a good first instructor is important so if you don’t feel safe, then LEAVE. And find another one.)
As for looking like a doofus… I hate to tell you, but that’s inevitable. It takes a lot of coordination and just getting your body used to doing a few different (unusual) things at once, while in the air, is difficult. There is also a strength factor. I always considered myself to be in shape before aerial, but I was lifting weights and running… not doing pull ups and push ups. So for me, I had to build a lot of strength in the areas where I was lacking before I could manage to do anything in the air. The flexibility you have to earn too. It’s putting in the time unless you were born with it. I was not and should really spend way more time on developing my flexibility because i may look bendy compared to the average person but i am certainly not in the aerial world (even the amateur one).
The one thing that I will say about my videos (besides the fact that I tape many many takes and usually only post the ones that look the best) is that the grace you see comes from 15 years of ballet. So a lot of the lines, the pointed toes, the good body position, I learned all that a long time ago and its muscle memory. It is the only shortcut I’ve been able to make, and I would argue that it is the only thing that makes me look moderately competent. because my strength and flexibility is still pretty basic and my tricks are maybe at the intermediate level… but if you do it clean, then it just automatically looks a lot better.
Long story short… try it! it’s a very very good workout and I think people who do it develop a lot of confidence. the last thing i will say – and what i remind myself of all the time – is that i am doing it for me, not to be a performer. so it’s not about looking perfect or reaching a level of technical proficiency. it’s about finding a sport that makes you feel good. i look forward to my workouts, which is how exercise should be. i think you will find that even if you don’t look like a cirque performer, that you will be amazed at what you can do.
Okay, I’m going to do it! I have a little ballet background myself which may or may not help at this point (what was that, 30 years ago?). I’m not concerned with performing (although, God help me, why does the aerial space have to be in the middle of such a crowded climbing gym?), but with maintaining balance, flexibility, and strength, which we tend to lose as we age. These are all such good tips. Thank you!
Oh and PS – this is some of my best work. https://www.tiktok.com/@adviceineeded/video/6966916799732468997?is_copy_url=1&is_from_webapp=v1
embrace the doofus.
Ha!
Love this!!!
thank you! xx
Nova,
When you need sunscreen…never be ashamed of who you are or the state of your being. Good for you for having hands that reflect your hard work! It was kind of you to help that woman out. And you did warn her. So there’s that! Loved your story. Mona
hi! thanks so much. and sorry for the delay in responding. I seem to have stopped getting notifications for comments. appreciate the kind words and thank you for reading :)