Why would people want to hang from hooks pierced through their skin? The reasons are different for each person who participates in this activity known as body suspension, and the Boulder woman is careful not to make generalizations.
My husband is tall. Without heels, I don't reach his chest. That's right. He's lanky and has exceptionally and borderline-disproportionately long monkey arms, and no buttocks whatsoever. Just a flat leg-back connector. He's not big and tall. Just tall.
Fun-run peer pressure is a growing stress in my life, with fundraising races pretty much every weekend around Boulder. Maybe the participants are moved by the excitement. Maybe they just want to share the pain. Maybe I want to choose my own kind of pain.
"Holy shit, I think someone just sent me a bunch of drugs," funky folk singer-songwriter Todd Snider announced from Nashville. "That's mushrooms." Just another day in the life of a well-traveled troubadour.
I quickly checked myself before showing that I was alarmed by her reaction, and continued to smile. I imagined that I was the first black person that she had ever seen, and wanted my encounter with her to be a positive one.
When I finally went to bed Thursday night and closed my eyes, I could see only images of rushing water. In the ensuing days, the sound of falling rain, which I have always found soothing, now seems fearsome. When will it start up again? How hard will it rain? How long it will last?