Learning To Fly

Photo credit: Michelle Badger

You know that question kids ask: If you could have any superpower what would it be? Mine would be flying. And last night I came close.

Sixteen months after snapping my tibia and fibula and discovering I have osteoporosis, 16 months of healing bones, 16 months of zipping up my weighted vest and hitting the gym, 16 months of choking down chalky supplements, I swung myself back into a hoop suspended from the ceiling.

There were times during the last year I felt like this was the beginning of the end. Last month I saw a commercial aimed at grandmothers for the bone treatment I’m on. I did not identify with these women doing their gentle stretches and holding hands with their grandkids and yet I am 52 and technically could be a grandmother.

That was the last straw. That’s when I signed up for this aerial class with my 16 year old daughter.

My physical therapist had given me all kinds of exercises to reawaken my muscles to build up my bone density and I remained motivated. “I have an active family I want to keep up with,” I kept saying.

But I also wanted to feel myself in my body again.

First I got my doctor’s approval. My endocrinologist took a long pause before asking if I had ever fallen from a what’s-it-called? I told him I had fallen once or twice from the lyra in the three years I’d done it, but it was rare and we always practiced over thick crash pads. He said, “just get a hoop close to the ground.” So that’s what I did.

I was nervous for our first class. I looked at the lyra covered in rainbow tape less than five feet from the floor and silently asked it to play.

I wonder if I can still…

And without thinking another thought I gripped the bottom of the hoop with both hands, closed my eyes and swung both legs into it and landed on my stomach. Then I let go and stretched my arms out like a bird. “I did it! My body remembered how!” I couldn’t contain my glee.

The teacher asked us to spell our name using our bodies in the hoop. At first doubt crept in but I shook it off, took a breath and leaned back stretching one leg high into the air. “Isn’t this called an L Pop?” I asked my daughter. “Yeah, mom. You’re doing it.”

From L Pop I flipped over to a hip hang to form the letter “A,” then climbed back up. And without thinking my body took over again and again. I was a little wobbly and a little less graceful than the last time I’d formed these shapes but I was doing it. I could trust my body again.