Strolling with my family down by the cove in La Jolla last weekend my family and I came across three guys practicing slacklining between two trees. I’ve seen this on television specials with people walking the line at insane heights over huge gorges in places like Yosemite. These guys were just doing 3 feet off the ground across about a 20 foot span so the risk was comparatively small. One guy just hopped right up on the line and walked back and forth, throwing in a spin here and there. I chatted with him for a bit about how hard this really is. He said he was trying for several days before he could just get both his feet on the thing.
I pride myself on catching on to physical challenges quickly so I watched for a bit and tried to intuit the skill set. This is something I do in martial art training all the time. I usually explain this by calling it vicarious learning where I don’t just observe what’s being shown, but try to tap directly into what the person is feeling internally which is the level at which their skill set has been embodied.
Then he invited me to give it a go. I started close to the end of the slackline near where it was attached to a tree. With one foot on the line and the other on the ground it was nearly impossible for me to keep the foot that was resting on the slackline from shaking all over the place like I was suddenly stricken with advanced Parkinson’s. I spent a minute wrestling with this only to realize that it was futile. Either I didn’t have the requisite muscle control in my leg or I was going about this wrong. Like riding a bike, I posited in my mind, it’s harder to go slow and half-step it than to just jump right in.
I took a breath and mustered up a dose of courage with the realization that a full commitment could result in A) flipping upside down onto my head B) having my feet slip off the line on either side, dropping with my full weight onto the line with the line snapping mercilessly upward into my nether regions or C) successfully mounting the line, but without a clear exit strategy. I also realized that the longer I wait the more flaccid my courage would become. I remember bungee jumping 160 feet off a bridge in Whistler a few years ago and the lady before me clung white-knuckled to the railing amidst tears and screams for several minutes before finally losing her grip and falling in what was the closest re-enactment of a suicide attempt I’ve ever witnessed first hand.
No more hesitation. With dozens of people standing around and watching I placed my left foot onto the line and before it had a chance to start shaking again I propelled myself upward with my second foot onto the line and instantly proceeded to option (B) above, smacking the inside of my right thigh on the slackline which smote me just a couple of inches from a precious part of my personal real estate, and I fell to the ground on my side.
There I lay on the ground, not injured, but in the midst of a great (but not altogether rare) opportunity to overcome what is possibly the greatest human fear – not falling or even being burned alive – but public humiliation. It was some consolation that the first discernible words that penetrated the groans of the onlookers were my new found mentor, “Dude, that was awesome. You were almost up!” This is definitely one of those activities that “almost” doesn’t carry much consolation. But hey, I’m shopping slackline kits right now at rei.com. Call me crazy, but I think this could be really fun!
That’s hilarious Dr. Greenwood – go option B! Nice to see there are things you struggle with too!