Címke: challenge

  • Banzuke at Lake Balaton

    Banzuke at Lake Balaton

    Posted on August 9, 2013

    I had always dreamed of testing myself against the terrifying obstacle courses of Japan.

    I used to watch them on television with envy as contestants put their skill and courage to the test on one challenge after another. Somehow, I always imagined that I would be able to do it too.

    Well, from today on, I look at those modern gladiators as true heroes.

    I could never quite decide whether they entertained the audience more — or themselves.

    Balatonfüred, August 6, 2013

    Countless events have taken place on this date throughout history.

    For me, while actively searching along the path of the Tao for the meaning of myself, my life and my place in this constantly changing world, something also became clear: how to experience this rather unusual kind of challenge — the sort that makes some people laugh and others more confident.

    But let us begin.

    Lake Balaton can take this too.

    At Kisfaludy Beach, a tower roughly two storeys high immediately catches the eye of anyone taking in the panorama.

    In front of it, floating on the water in bright summer colours, is a huge inflatable pillow.

    From the moment we arrived on Sunday, we were already shouting and laughing whenever holidaymakers gathered their courage at the top of the tower and prepared to jump.

    The idea was simple.

    One person landed flat on the nearer end of the giant inflatable pillow.

    At the other end sat another participant, waiting to be launched into the air like a lion ready to leap.

    The flatter the first person landed, the more spectacular the result.

    I am still not sure what was funnier.

    Watching the trembling-legged heroes struggle to make themselves jump, like characters in a fairy tale facing some impossible task?

    Or watching the helpless Flying Man waiting at the far end of the pillow?

    Naturally, we discussed which role we ourselves would choose.

    And naturally, we laughed every time we remembered the roar of the crowd from the shore and the water, and all the comments shouted at these gladiators after their questionable performances.

    We joined in too, of course.

    That is simply what people do.

    Then It Was Our Turn

    This morning, somebody approached us.

    I had never been used as part of a promotional attraction before, so naturally I said yes.

    A few moments later, looking into the excited eyes of my two sons, who were clearly enjoying the anticipation, I was already beginning to regret it.

    Do I really need this?

    Then I remembered how much I had enjoyed watching everyone else suffer the day before, and I started laughing again.

    Never mind.

    A physical education teacher?

    A graduate of the University of Physical Education?

    A basketball player?

    Of course there would be no problem.

    It was only another challenge, a little test of courage designed to pump up the adrenaline.

    And to be fair, there are not many things these days that make me feel that much adrenaline.

    Up the stairs.

    Life jacket on.

    I went first.

    From the lower level of the tower, I jumped forward onto the pillow so that my smiling sons could launch me closer to the sky.

    The giant floating cushion challenged me to battle.

    And, to be perfectly honest, it defeated me.

    Within a minute of landing, I had no chance of riding the moving pillow far enough to crawl or climb toward its end.

    I slipped into the water.

    Second Attempt

    This time I waited for the miracle with much greater confidence.

    And a miracle was exactly what would have been required for me to stay on.

    I fell into Lake Balaton at almost precisely the same spot.

    As I dropped, I could still hear the fading laughter of my two sons.

    The older one was already crawling forward.

    He managed it on his first attempt.

    All right, I thought.

    Just wait.

    I am going to launch you so far that you will never find your way back.

    While imagining this heroic revenge, I suddenly became very aware of the height waiting for me.

    Standing above the middle of Lake Balaton was an unfamiliar situation.

    Unfamiliar height.

    No railing.

    There was only one possible solution.

    Jump.

    At the public’s request, I threw myself into the open space below.

    A moment later, I hit the water again with what had already become a familiar feeling.

    This time on the other side.

    I immediately started swimming, because my younger son was already waiting for me at the launching point.

    Back up again.

    A few moments later — jump.

    This time I landed with a position worthy of judging, executing the manoeuvre with remarkable virtuosity and accepting all the risks involved.

    Flat on my back.

    Exactly as required for a successful launch.

    The Fastest-Improving Human Slingshot

    By the time I reached the stairs again, my older son was already waiting in position.

    Fine, I thought.

    He deserves this.

    After all, I had clearly become the fastest-improving human slingshot at Lake Balaton.

    This time I jumped even more confidently.

    The crowd roared.

    They almost seemed to demand that we switch roles and that I attempt the supposedly easier part of the challenge.

    A few moments later, both boys were encouraging me from the top of the tower.

    I jumped onto the lower end.

    And I actually stayed on for quite a while.

    By which I mean I slid off the right-hand side of the violently moving inflatable at almost exactly the same place as before.

    The great mystery remained unresolved.

    So I tried again.

    The boys explained what I was doing wrong.

    Apparently, I did not need to make such a big jump.

    I should simply fall gently onto the pillow, almost like a mermaid.

    Excellent advice.

    This time I slid backward.

    At least that was progress — an entirely new direction.

    At that point, regardless of everyone watching, I finally abandoned the skill event altogether.

    I accepted the truth.

    I am a knight who prefers danger.

    Apparently, Big Fun is not my natural event.

    Flying Toward the Sun

    What I regret most is that I enjoyed jumping from the tower so much that the adrenaline took over completely.

    My attention turned inward.

    I had no chance to properly enjoy the sight of my sons flying through the air with their acrobatic launches.

    And what flights they were.

    Even Icarus would probably have looked at them and said:

    “Yes. That is exactly what I dreamed of.”

    Flying toward the Sun.