Aerial aerobics catches on

“Everyone responds flying. Everyone wants to fly,” she says.

This, to Andrea, is the essence of the aerial aerobics class she’s been teaching twice a week for the last five weeks. And she is right.

When I try aerial aerobics, I am reminded of those moments when I have come as close as one can to flight without a plane: when I was pushed too high by my sister on a swing or when my father picked me up as a young girl and swang me around until I thought I might vomit.

This feeling, hanging upside down suspended from the rafters by two ribbons of fabric, is terror. Then when I relax, let go of the fabric and my body swings freely, this feeling becomes exhilaration. Just like flying.

Aerial aerobics is an exercise. The burn in my arms, the sheen on my forehead and the sweat leaving an itchy trail down my back attest to that. However, when Andrea performs aerial aerobics, it looks more like art.

Gym-goers use two lengths of fabric, the “silks” as they are called in the lingo, to support body weight as they carry out gravity-defying moves while suspended mid-air. 

Andrea started out with aerial silks four years ago when she was still a university student. When she moved to East Africa she brought her silks with her.

Yoga, strength training

Some of her earliest students were her roommates and her partner, Neel Chandaria, who now helps her run her classes. Today, she’s miles away from that university student who let loose an expletive when she faced her first silks.

On a Wednesday afternoon at CrosfitKwetu gym in Gigiri, Nairobi, Andrea spirals, does splits in mid-air, and  inverts her body all with the grace of a dancer.

Her moves are reminiscent of a Cirque du Soleil performance. Only the redness of her face reveals the strain it takes to perform these moves. This workout, she says, elegantly brings together gymnastics, yoga, and strength training.

She separates her class into two: the beginners and the advanced students. The other beginners put me to shame. Michelle inverts herself on her first try. Molly claims that this is her first class but the ease with which she navigates the silks leaves me suspicious.

When it is my turn, my first task is lift my body off the ground. Easy, I think. The silks go round my wrists.

“Fold your knees to your chest and lift yourself up,” Andrea tells me.

Not so easy. I am able to hold myself suspended off the ground for about half a second before I let go, nearly collapsing onto the cushioned floor.

My fellow beginners clap: “Good job. You’ve got it. Try again.” They are not being insincere. This is the ambience in Andrea’s class. They urge each other along. They clap. They high-five me when I manage to fold my feeble, soft body into even the most basic of tricks.

Clarity of thought

This cheering is infectious. When Michelle performs a new move, I feel a sudden burst of joy, as though this achievement were my own. My turn again on the silks and Michelle gives me a quick lesson.

It’s all about the core, she tells me. Tense those muscles up as you lift yourself up.  This is problematic because I have less of a core in my middle and more of a mixture of chocolate and fat.

But the benefits of class begin to make themselves known early on. By the end of my first session, I have found not only my core but my biceps too: I know they exist because they hurt.

Andrea tells me that combining aerial aerobics with other strength-training and flexibility focused exercises can make the going easier.

Graceful swan

Despite my misgivings, aerial aerobics seems not-so-hard to pick up. The women in the advanced segment , swinging themselves fearlessly, have had three, four of Andrea’s sessions. And the classes are growing. Andrea is about to begin classes at Mom3ntum gym in Westlands.

Hanging upside down turns out to be very good for clarity of thought. As I shriek in fear, I know that I will be back. 

I want to fly again, and perhaps this time I will be more of a graceful swan than a confused chicken.