A pogo love story by Michael Brookhart
I’ve been pogoing for a long time. Not that long compared to most people in the extreme pogo community… but like the majority of us it has now overtaken more than half of my life and nearly all of my recent and distant memories. I’ve always considered pogoing to be my one and only. My one and only addiction. I would put pogoing in front of everything in my life. My schooling, my work, and my relationships all seemed to be afterthought because I would wake up every day wondering what would come next for me and the spring frame with pegs sitting in my trunk. It has taken me places I would never have imagined myself going and has truly made me the person I am today. Like any addiction though, it is imperative to know when to stop yourself.
Last June I had surgery. The surgery was thankfully not for any pogo related injury, but for the paraganglioma tumor sitting on my corroded artery. I was the most unprepared I have ever been walking into the James Hospital in Columbus. My family and I were under the impression that it would be a simple in and out type of procedure. When I woke up, I realized something went wrong. I couldn’t tell what time it was, and I was confused why the hospital staff was putting me through what seemed like a mental evaluation. I quickly learned this was because my 3-hour surgery turned into an 8-hour one. My artery had burst right after the removal of the tumor and I had lost the flow of blood to my brain while waiting for the emergency vein surgery team to extract a vein from my upper thigh.
A surgery like that would change the direction of many people’s lives. While my family was scared and thankful for me to still be around, I had virtually no fear recovering in the hospital. The lack of fear of major surgery was because I was afraid of not being able to pogo again, not of dying. My lack of preparation was because my day to day was filled with finding the time to train for pogopalooza. Why would a little tumor in my neck give me fear when my friends are able to flip over cars and perform death defying stunts every day? My anxiety was always related to my fear of heights or my stage fright. This caused me to overlook at lot, especially how those around me were feeling.
While my doctors said I would be back on the pogo again in a few weeks, I knew they didn’t exactly comprehend the situation at hand. The first week in the hospital I couldn’t walk without assistance. My standing heart rate would quickly climb to 200, my blood pressure was rising, and my neck was affixed to a drainage tube on my hip. I was extremely thankful for my parents being able to care for me while I was virtually bed ridden. I couldn’t believe despite this I was able to hop on a Vurtego by July. I still can’t believe I was able to place in tech for the second year in a row last July. While they are just rough materials that Nick McClintock and I put together, those two bronze trophies mean the world to me. They remind me every day that all my passion has led to something… being a pogoer. Being a pogoer to me is something that has always confused me because I could never define it. Even today I would be hesitant to call myself a pogoer, but I remember the first time I felt like one.
The first Pogopalooza I attended was Pittsburgh 2014 for the “world tour series” palooza. I was only able to attend because of the win your first trip video contest. It was the only way I could afford it. I was so thankful my “Stuck in Ohio” video was enough. I was extremely nervous to meet everyone, and my anxiety was rapidly growing as my eldest brother and I traveled the 4 ½ hours to help set up on Friday. Somehow all that anxiety was lifted in the simple moment of showing up to the hotel above the Panera Bread. That moment coincides with the first feeling of being a pogoer. Walking to the room who else but the magnificently named Tone Staubs pops out in the hallway to exclaim “BROOKHART!”. This was my first taste of something… my first high. I couldn’t believe it was all real. As the self-acclaimed biggest pogo fanboy, that entire weekend was nothing but pure euphoria to me. That was the moment I knew I was addicted.
I have a lot pogo stories stored in my head, ready to burst out at any moment someone on the street stops and calls “Hey Pogo Guy!”. I often try and explain the extreme athletes are merely my friends and direct the conversation to how I got into the sport myself. I do this because I find it easier to tell my own story, and I hope it encourages those around me to pick up a stick and start jumping. I knew anyone could do it if they wanted, but they just needed a push start. I got a push to start jumping from my grandma Helen as I was pushing her wheelchair through the mall on one of the last trips I got to take with her.
One of the last clear memories I had with my grandmother before her Alzheimer’s and Dementia sent her to the nursing home was shopping for school clothes as we did everyyear. I don’t remember any clothes we got but I remember she got me my first pogo stick. This meant the world to me and standing up on the box the last two years holding those trophies I was holding back tears knowing I had really made her proud because I had found something I love and stuck with it.
This last week I have decided to take a quick break from pogoing to get stronger, figure out my next steps after school, and most importantly propose to my girlfriend. This was the scariest moment of my life. More than jumping off the death plank on a GG, trying to flip into mats, or forgetting an entire day in Indiana on a gig. I have overcome my fear of heights, my fear of crowds, and my fear of death all because of pogoing. There was only onething left in my life that I hadn’t solved on my own pogoing in my driveway, and it was the fear of commitment.
I have been in a relationship for just over a year. The wildest part of the last year wasn’t my surgery, or placing at palooza, or the corona virus keeping me from returning to school. The wild part of the last 369 odd days has been not mentioning the pogo world to my now fiancé. I did this not on purpose, but because in my head I separated my two loves. Pogoing would always be there for me in some form or another. Then about a month ago I pogoed in front of Elizabeth for the first time and I finally felt the confidence I was missing. I know now I can stickflip. I know now I can learn to flip a car. I know now I can pogo in front of anyone and everyone. I know now because once I felt this rush of confidence, I knew I needed to stop.
I needed to stop not because I have to, but because right now I need to finish what I started and finish up my degree at Ohio University. I’m extremely excited to come back to Pogopalooza this year with more tricks up my sleeve than ever, but I won’t be competing because this year I need to focus on one thing at a time. For now, it’ll be my wedding and my degree. Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I can’t wait for what is next because I know that I will always be a pogoer, because I always have been. I want to thank every pogoer that has tried to teach me what I had to learn on my own. I have room in my heart for two loves, and I can’t wait to share both with the world. I won’t stop until my wife and I are holding up the first gold medals for pogoing at the summer Olympics. If not today… maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.
-Brookhart 04/03/2020
