Leg two began on an apocalyptically foggy day in January. We had been sent deep into the wilds of Mississauga, to a giant blue and white building where we were immediately slapped with a detour choice: Orange Sky Socks or Pink?
We had come to jump. This was SkyZone, the massive indoor trampoline park https://www.skyzone.com/ca-mississauga where basically every surface is bounceable. The socks were mandatory, the kind with the little rubber grips on the bottom to help prevent people from unintentionally faceplanting. Gotta say, when you’re as klutzy as I am, this is appreciated. I’m probobly the reason they make you sign a waiver the second you walk through the door. Those socks may be ugly as fuck, but they’re pretty awesome. I’ve since also used them for Barre classes at the gym, they’re nice and padded and really sticky.
So, the fun part about going late on a Saturday afternoon is that it also happens to be the official children’s birthday party time. I mean, technically I don;t know if it’s official, but as a group of childless 30-something adults we may have looked slightly like pedophiles. There were like 500 kids under 12 there and us. Even the staff were below our demographic. The only other adults able to produce grey hair were the bored-looking parents supervising the birthday parties.
The options of things to do here are fantastic – there’s a designated dodgeball area, a field of tramps for freestyle bouncing, a warped wall to run up, giant bouncing slam dunk hoops and a big fluffy foam pit to practice your crazy tricks into. We ran in, looked at all the little kids and thought, this is going to be a nice relaxing time. And then we started to bounce and realized that this shit is hard. The cardio kicks in fast – after 20 minutes of continual freestyle bounce we were all sweaty and on of our group had (not even making this shit up) thrown up due to exertion. No wonder all the other adults were just watching, with their hummingbird heart beats and negative body mass indexes, the kids could go all week on these things and here we were, just trying not to look too pathetic as we huffed and puffed and blew the place down. Even the innocuous looking foam pit was a trap. It wraps you in it’s foamy embrace when you land, and you’re all like “sweet, I love you too, foam pit” and then you realize it’s like lying on your back in quicksand, where the more you struggle the farther down you’re sucked and the next thing you know you’re on your back, arms and legs flailing in the air like a flipped Koopa Troopa and you’re convinced this is how you’re going to die.
We had only paid for 60 minutes of flight time, and that was probably a good thing for our first bounce. After the midway point, once we had our tramp legs and were more comfortable on the pads, it got much better. We learned we could take the little kids in dodgeball – hey, if you don’t like competition, get off the court – and there was no more puking. Gotta say, those spin classes and years of Zumba helped me out a lot, I was sweaty, but breathing well. Their Skyfit exercise classes hold some serious appeal, and I may try to make it one day, as basic jumping takes it out of you, so balancing lunges, squats and bounce sequences would make everything from the waist down burn.
#MyTAR17 leg two was a success. We clearly weren’t skilled at this, but what we lacked in talent we made up in enthusiasm. Checked into the pit stop in a comfortable 6th place, but the team of adorable 60-ish grandparents from Alberta were eliminated by Jon due to being stuck in the foam pit long enough for all the other teams to check in before them.