Don't Get Hurt!

If you’re drawn to variety arts, acrobatics, fire handling, or sword swallowing, chances are you already know you’re cut from a different cloth.

It takes a certain kind of person to do this stuff.

That said, now that you’re moving up the ladder—turning this from a hobby into a serious career—you need to be aware of the single most dangerous roadblock out there: getting hurt.

One of the reasons I’ve been able to stay in the game for so long is simple: despite some pretty radical adventures, I’ve managed to glide through without major injuries. Not because I don’t take risks, but because I respect the fine line between daring and reckless.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not here to ruin your fun. You absolutely have to get out there, push yourself, and live. But here’s the reality check: if you’ve spent the last seven years developing yourself as an acrobat, is it really wise to take that double Black Diamond snowboarding course? If you’ve been juggling since you were five, and you’re only a year or two away from breaking through and traveling the world on cruise ships, should you really be attempting that backflip on the side of the pool to impress your friends? Cliff jumping? Shooting an arrow straight up in the air? Driving without your seatbelt? Not chewing your food 32 times before swallowing?

OK, I admit—I’m being a little ridiculous. No one actually chews one bite more than 27 times.

But the point stands: don’t get hurt.

Here’s a story to make it real. One of my students was on the way up and still loved to do this handstand trick in his show. I had already told him, a year prior, “You don’t need that move. You won’t want to do it in a few more years anyways. You’ve got plenty of material. Just take it out.” But he loved the laugh, the applause, the fact that he could walk on his hands. One day, he rolled out of it and tweaked his shoulder. Nothing major—he healed on his own, no surgery, no drama—but the moment reminded him of my words. After that, he stopped performing it.

The lesson is simple, but crucial: assess your risks. Take stock of the things you love to do, and ask yourself: is this move, this stunt, this “trick” worth the possibility of setting myself back? Because here’s the thing—unlike a degree you earned in school, a degree that you could use in some other industry if you had to—your body is not transferrable. Mess it up, and your career could be over.

Your body is your primary instrument, your essential tool. Nothing—not surgery, not rehab, not fancy medical technology—can truly replace the parts you were born with.

This isn’t about fear. It’s about judgment. It’s about knowing when to push and when to step back. You want to live fully, perform boldly, and keep climbing. But don’t let impatience or ego cost you the one thing that makes all of this possible: yourself.

I'm not here to lecture, you gotta do you.

But be smart. Trust your instincts. And take those calculated risks. But above all, protect the body that will carry you through a career full of thrills, and adventure. Because if you break it now, that's it, there is no redo.

Your body is precious. Don’t screw it up.