A trapeze class helped Women’s Health editorial assistant Sabrina Talbert shift the way she navigated her fears—and tame her limiting beliefs.
When I was a kid, I was fearless. My parents enrolled me in gymnastics, and it made me feel alive. Uneven bars were my favorite—the flow of the routines possessed a certain elegance, and watching gymnasts fly after they released one bar and grabbed another captivated me. I had dreams of reaching the elite level, but as I got older, I grew “too tall” and the programs became more expensive than my family could afford.
Once I stopped gymnastics, my feet stayed on the ground, and a fear of heights crept in. Somewhere on the way to adulthood, I realized I wasn’t invincible, and that familiar flying feeling faded.
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I still carry this anxiety with me, so when a friend asked me to take a trapeze class with her at Trapeze School New York (TSNY), I was apprehensive. Still, the thought of doing something remotely close to swinging on the bars piqued my curiosity.
The first jump of every session is always the scariest, though the repetition makes it more manageable.
At TSNY’s outdoor facility at Pier 40 at Hudson River Park, my class began with floor drills. We learned how to hold the bar, push out our hips, and jump properly. While practicing, I tried to focus on memorizing my cues and the positions I’d soon contort myself into, rather than how high up I’d be.
When it comes to trapeze, though, the only way to really learn is by jumping into the deep end. Within minutes, I was called up to the platform.
The perfectionist in me wanted to stay past the end of every class to keep practicing until I got all the moves right.
After attaching the safety hooks to my harness, I applied chalk to my hands and felt the familiarity of doing this before my bar routines. Sure, they were different sports, but something about it was still meditative—another opportunity to find my flow.
With shaky hands I slowly climbed the ladder, feeling the cool breeze hit me. Once I was at the top, my instructor clipped on my safety lines and pulled the bar to me. It all happened faster than I could process, and I nervously confessed to him how terrified I was. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said. Having my fear affirmed rather than brushed off made all the difference. Before I could second-guess myself, I heard “Hep!” (the trapeze term for “go”) and jumped.
I began with a simple knee hang that evolved into a knee hang with a back tuck dismount. By the end of the first class, I managed to find my confidence.
And over the course of my second and third classes, I worked on my form, timing, and “catch hands”—the hand position you use to reach out so the catcher can grab you off the bar. I even worked on new skills, like the heels-off whip (heels are the last thing on the bar after you let go) and the set straddle whip (where you froggy your legs on the bar before shooting them forward in a straddle).
With each move, I fell back in love with flying.
Instead of trying to repress my fear in an effort to eliminate it, I let it join me for the ride.
In the past, I’ve allowed fear to limit my experiences. But with trapeze, I was able to shift the way I navigate it: Instead of trying to repress my fear in an effort to eliminate it, I let it join me for the ride.
Over the course of my second and third classes, I worked on my form and timing.
The perfectionist in me wanted to stay past the end of every class to keep practicing until I got all the moves right, and the adrenaline rush that came with each try was addictive.
I’d like to think that if I went to class on a weekly or even monthly basis, my fear of heights (at least as it relates to trapeze) would diminish. The first jump of every session is always the scariest, though the repetition makes it more manageable. (Baby steps—er, leaps!)
With three classes completed, I know I’ll return whenever I can. Trapeze was the right blend: new and challenging, but also reminiscent of the sport I loved so much. Now, when I jump off that platform, I work toward being poised and present. But more important, I focus on having fun.
This article originally appeared in the July/August 2023 issue of Women’s Health.
Sabrina is an editorial assistant for Women’s Health. When she’s not writing, you can find her running, training in mixed martial arts, or reading.
