My Ripped Hands

Last Sunday, I did a fly-away on high bar for the first time.

It was terrifying.

While I’m perfectly calm doing flips on the ground, any time you add some sort of mechanism or complication, the fear is back and just as gut-wrenching as my first backflip. I was still shaking when I tried for the third and final fly away. As I let go of the bar, the skin on my hands tore off. The bars are wooden, and though they are smoothed from years of use, rotation alone will tear at any imperfections in the skin of your palm.

I quickly stopped doing¬† anything on the bar. Suggestions for dealing with rips online included “stop doing bar work,” or “tough it out.” I stopped.

It was probably the most honestly terrifying thing I’ve tried in a long time, though. I’m glad I did it, and now I’m addicted. I’ll be back for more high bar stuff as soon as I figure out how to avoid the rips.

My ripped hands twinge as I type this.¬†Sometimes pain isn’t so much a reminder of what to avoid as a reminder of what we want to do better.