The Next Generation

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In Greece…the art of rope-walking was held in the highest regard as part of the education of the young.
~ Hermine Demoraine

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The benefits of equilibristics (balance) training are almost too numerous to list: improved spatial perception, proprioception, and vestibular function; added brain mass and neuropathways; better muscle isolation, joint stabilization, and neuromuscular coordination to name a few. Given the beneficiality of equilbristic training, of course as a conscientious member of society and an amateur funambulist, I’m trying follow the example of the Greeks and do my part to provide a well-rounded education to the young.

Ok, really the biomechanics and neuroscience jargon—while valid—was a chance to see how many big scientific-y words I could fit into a single run-on sentence. Balancing really is beneficial, and I am pretty passionate about giving kids opportunities to learn and experience rope walking. I’m doing my level best to help develop the next generation of funambulists and equilibrists. Mostly though I wanted an excuse to share some of the adorable photos I’ve taken of kids balancing.

The joy and excitement on their faces is infections. Some have a look of ageless concentration on their faces and take their first ventures very seriously, others giggle uncontrollably as they (or the line under their feet) wobbles uncontrollably, others need a more secure helping hand, but, given a little security, soon enough are grinning ear to ear.

One little girl, after she’d tried out my waterline, shyly confided to me that she had dreams of wirewalking. I heartily approved and shared that I had just the same dream—and was pursuing it. I hope that somewhere along the way I convey to these children who aren’t afraid of dreaming big that those dreams are worth pursuing—that they can pursue them. And if I help them dream of rope walking specifically…I certainly won’t complain.

So here’s to the next generation, the next generation of equilibrists, the next generation of dreamers.

Go Down to the Wire

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If there’s ever an issue when I’m walking across the Grand Canyon or anywhere, I would go down to the wire immediately, and that wire’s a safe haven.
~Nik Wallenda

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A friend of mine brought her younger sibling waterlining this past Saturday. Even though it was her first time, our newest inductee to slacklining had an incredibly good instinct for catching the line to break her fall. It got me thinking about highwire & highline artists and athletes’ strategies for staying safe (and alive).

In an interview before walking the Grand Canyon, highwire artist Nik Wallenda talked about how he has trained since childhood to “go down to the wire” in case of emergency. Sure enough when the winds got rough and the wire began a building oscillation, Nik Wallenda did just that:

During that skywalk, things never got so rough that he had to go all the way down and wrap his arms and legs around the wire—but he has also trained for that.

Slackliners also train safety responses, though from what I’ve seen, often instead of a crouch, quite a few of them will drop down to sitting position—a butt bounce with the line between the legs known as “The Korean” because Korean tightropers—“Jultagi” artists—do a similar move. Whether in a crouch or in a drop, being closer to the wire makes the balancers more stable by lowering their center of gravity so they aren't tottering so high above their narrow balance point. Being closer to the wire or line also makes it more likely that the balancer will be able to grab hold of it if they fall.

The ideal response is to go down to the wire proactively/preemptively, to be in control to crouch or drop, to go down before too much off balance. But control is something to strive for, not to count on; we can’t always anticipate what might go wrong, what sudden gust or inexplicable stumble might come. And so a second safety response is needed as well. Highwire artists and highliners train to fall toward the line (rather than away from it into thin air) and to catch the line as they fall—to grab hold, and hold on until help can arrive. In extreme cases, they’ll even try to hit the wire with as much of their body as possible--to fall across it to have the best possible chance of hanging on. I believe that Tino Wallenda, Nik Wallenda’s uncle, has several times broken and bruised ribs falling onto the wire—but better that than falling to the ground.

I'm really only just beginning to develop these skills and responses. The first safety response, of preemtively going down to the rope, whether in the wirewalker’s crouch or with the slackliner’s drop, isn't something that is instinctual for me at this point; it’s something I still need to work on. I think I do better with that second safety response though—catching the line. Waterlining this summer has given me ample opportunity to practice.

Waterlining for me is training ground for high balancing. While waterlining lacks the quick and dry recovery of a regular low-to-the-ground slackline, the water provides a safe, if wet, landing while adding the challenge of moving water underneath as an unstable focal point and the motivation to try to stay safely dry. Just as importantly, while falling or jumping clear of the line and taking a plunge is perfectly acceptable, waterlining can also be an opportunity to train the safety responses that can't be practiced low to the ground but without the cumbersome safety equipment needed for high balancing.

I have to admit, keeping at least my head and shoulders out of the frigid water and towing myself quickly back to shore were probably the primary motivators for learning to catch while waterlining. One of my friends said that that I often somehow managed to tip and grab for the line before my feet actually left it. What I don't know is if I catch hold strongly enough to support the full weight of a fall high up. More training and practice is definitely something in my future, but at least I've made a start.

I find an analogy in everything; I can’t resist. So this is what I’ve been thinking about this week: just as the highwire walker has a base of support—his wire—holding him up, we all have bases of support—support systems—in our lives.  These are our family and friends, the people we turn to when we need help and comfort.  These threads of genuine human connection are what our lives and human society are woven from. And when life gets rough, an effective survival strategy is sticking close to those support systems just as a wirewalker crouches closer to his wire.

Sometimes life’s upsets come upon us unexpectedly and bowl us over, just like an unexpected gust of wind or stumble. Then it isn’t enough just to move closer to our supports, instead perhaps we need to reach for the love and support we’ll need to hold onto till we regain our balance.

The day after waterlining, as I was drafting this post, I had the chance for a good long talk with a friend, a good friend who was willing to listen to some of my deepest worries, fears, and frustrations with compassion and without judgment; a friend who was also willing to share some of the tilts and tips in her own life. I have been very blessed to have friends like that, friends who are willing to lend a hand helping me keep my balance—metaphorically and also literally.

Life seems to be giving me opportunities to set aside my invincible independence and focus instead on the people close to me.  While I’m learning to reach out proactively before my world rocks me too off balance, it seems like often enough lately I’ve stumbled and, metaphorically, fallen hard onto the support of family and friends. It has, admittedly, bruised my ego a bit, but it's kept me from ever being broken on rock bottom.  I’m so grateful to the friends and family that have been there to prop me up.

So that is my lesson for the week: learning to make my instinctual response to the upsets of life the same as Nik Wallenda’s: go down to the wire.

Walking on Water

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I don’t know what I was looking for, but I found it on the other side.
~Julia Hagen

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Summer is, unfortunately, winding down now, so I’m savoring what is left. I’ve had a fairly low key summer all in all; aside from work and some sporadic job hunting, balance has been a big focus. This summer I was determined to conquer a waterline. Waterlines are just cool: it’s just a slackline over water—which means if you fall you get wet, which is pretty much perfect to a summer slacker like me.

There’s a great pre-bolted place on a river near where I live. The sides of the river are cemented where a bridge used to be, the banks are grassy, there are trees for shade, and a bridge just downstream makes for easy setup and a convenient alternative to the slackline for travel from side to side. The water is frigid, but the bolting for anchors, deep enough water, and a short enough span for my current gear make it the most ideal location I’ve found yet.

When the weather is hot, I’ve sent out blanket invitations to friends to join me for a waterlining session. Quite a few friends have joined me who had never slacklined over solid earth before, let alone over water. We alternated between falling into the river and sitting out on the grassy bank to get warm again. When walking on top didn’t work out, hanging underneath and pulling across was a popular alternative.

The waterline is located at a popular park and swimming hole, so spectators are many and new “friends” too—anyone who wants to try is welcome. Given the people lining the bridge and lining up for a turn, you’d never guess from the pictures that I generally only have 2 – 4 of my own friends in tow. I like sharing my passion, so I don’t mind the crowds. And hey, really, am I going to object to hearing random strangers say how cool I am?

I’ve loved the waterlining sessions. It’s the best of summer: outdoor fun in the sun, balance playtime, good friends, and lots of laughter—and the flailing, bailing, and splashing gives us plenty to laugh about.

In terms of just having fun, the waterline is always a success, but I’ve been motivated to have some balance success too. Last year I was unable to conquer this waterline. I had two years of slacklining under my belt…and all of that skill seemed to go out the window once there was water involved. Even the motivation of staying out of the cold water couldn’t keep me on the line. I generally took a dunking after just a step or maybe two. Once, just once, I made it almost half way.

When I went back for the first time this year, I thought for sure I was ready. I had practiced balance pipe all through the winter, had practiced on longer lines at lesser tension through the summer, even setting up my slackline across the same span as the river…but once again I fell as quickly as I stood. During that first session this year, after many falls I became a little bit steadier and, eventually, made it almost half way again. I was relieved that at least I wasn't doing worse than the previous year, but it was hardly the degree of progress I'd expected.

Some things just take time, then happen all in an instant. I set up my waterline twice more in the past week. And the great news: I conquered!

Last Friday I’d arranged to waterline with a friend…but she was unable to at the last minute. I’d been looking forward to it all week so I decided to go anyway even though waterlining alone is a bit sketchy. There were enough people around, and I was careful to stay where the water was a safe depth. I fell in a lot, but after an hour, I started to make more progress down the line. And then out of the blue it happened: I made it all the way across!

As I stepped off the slackline back onto solid ground, my victory was met by the spontaneous cheering of twenty Boys and Girls Club members who were on a field trip. Those cheers broke the controlled calm and focus I’d submerged myself into, brought elation bubbling to the surface as I threw my arms up, acknowledging the applause. I crossed the bridge back to the other side…and crossed the waterline again without falling. One of the little girls kept track of my crossings for me: one then two, three then four, and still more. As soon as I’d done it once, I could do it again.

I went back again the next day with a few friends and walked pretty steadily right from the start—steadily enough that I challenged myself by adding simple tricks like kneeling, sitting, laying, remounting, and turning. Sometimes I still fell after just a few steps, but really not all that often. Something just clicked, and what I could do over solid ground, I could do over water. Libby Sauter, a professional slackliner I’d met at the All Girls Slackline Festival in May, described having that same sort of moment highlining—the moment when it seemed no different than walking near the ground. I’m looking forward to that "click" moment like you wouldn't believe.

The victory of crossing the river was a big one for me. It was a very real and concrete victory during a time when mostly I have made slow and steady learning progress—the kind of progress that is often hard to measure. That moment of victory reminded me of something I heard Julia Hagen say just after she’d successfully crossed ("sended" in climber's lingo) her first highline: 'I don’t know what I was looking for, but I found it on the other side.'

That’s how I feel: I’m seeking balance, I’m not even always sure why, but in moments like this one—when I stepped onto solid ground having crossed over a river on a stretchy, shaky 1-inch wide piece of webbing—I just know that I've found a piece of what I've been looking for. I’ve been riding a high for days—a delicious sense of confidence and accomplishment.

As wonderful as stepping back onto solid ground is, one of my favorite times on this waterline is in the middle. As I walk out away from the bank along the downward curve, the line dips low, then touches the water. The cold water just covers the tops of my feet as my slackline swishes and splashes as it sways. And for a little while I’m walking on water. It’s magical there in the middle—in many ways as magical as arriving at the far shore.

Here’s to all the summer slackers who have joined me in the middle and cheered my arrival on the other side.