I ditched the preconceptions, realised I'm no Blondin, and cut myself some slack
It's never a good idea to have preconceptions, is it? Five weeks ago, slacklining seemed like a fun challenge to take on. Despite abysmal past form where skills requiring a degree of coordination are concerned, I must confess that I secretly harboured hope. Hope that I had a hitherto hidden talent for aerial acrobatics, and an unfounded optimism that, if I applied myself with diligence, I had a chance of attaining a respectable level of proficiency on a line suspended in space. Perhaps I could run away and join the circus after all.
Gaining a new skillset was the sum total of my expectations (although, some years ago, having given myself a shiner by kneeing myself in the face while bouncing in a bouncy castle, the possibility of breaking a bone was never far from my mind).
The thing is, it turns out I'm not much of a slackliner. I won't be joining the roll-call of famous funambulists. In time, if I keep it up - and I intend to, because it's terrific fun - I might develop a degree of competency, but I'll never reach the heights of a Charles Blondin or an Elvira Madigan.