ABSTRACT
Jumping has been a minor passion of mine since grade school. To jump any reasonable height takes balance, rhythm, coordination, and good form. A photograph taken at the instant of clearance shows the jumper “lying” on his or her side with the kicking leg stretched out and the take-off leg slightly tucked in near the bar. Unlike some of the other styles, such as the Scissors or Straddle, everything goes over the bar simultaneously, thus enhancing the sensation of “flying”. There the metal bar sits unwavering, inelastic, and uncompromisingly hard. A good jump, in short, involves a kind of faith that everything will go perfectly. Like any other sport, high-jumping can be infinitely complicated or wonderfully simple. The purely analytical side is interesting; but more fun is the sense of abandon, of letting go. With friendly crickets at hand, thoughts of childhood or Grandpa Bauer jumping in Blue Mound.
