Backstage looked like a ghost town. The show had gone off without a hitch and production had run smoothly. I made my usual post-show rounds. Walking around aimlessly, clipboard in hand and walkie talkie secured to my hip, I found myself headed towards the ring. The seats were empty, less than a couple of hours had passed since thousands of excited fans had filled them. A few roadies and PAs milled about but for the most part it was quiet. The ring had not been broken down yet and as usual, it was the last thing that had to be done.

I stared inside the ring. The show was over but the performance was not. PJ was there, still in his wrestling gear. He bounced off the ropes, practicing striking moves and other athletic skills all by himself. The concentration was etched on his face. He looked serious but relaxed. He moved with precision and agility, garnering the same intensity and excitement in an empty building just as he did with a packed arena. He was mesmerizing to watch and I felt sucked in by his performance.

"Claudia," he finally spoke my name, breaking the trance.

"Hi," I managed to croak.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I was just making my usual rounds, making sure the crew didn't need any help and I saw you. I didn't mean to stare…"

"It's okay. I know these guys have to break down the ring and all. I have so much energy, I came down to help but they weren't ready yet. I hope it's okay."

"Of course," I nodded. "That's very nice of you to help with that. I come down here for that, too. A lot of wrestlers don't even think of doing something like that but it really means a lot to the crew and a set of extra hands never hurt anything."

"In the Indys it happens all the time," he shrugged. "I don't mind. These guys have a hard enough job as it is. I remember wrestling sometimes in South Africa there was no crew. We did a show one time literally in the jungle. It was amazing. The fans had never seen anything like it and they were going crazy. We had to put on a good show but there was limited staff so we were wrestlers, security, production, the crew, everything."

"The jungle, huh? Wow, that sounds…wild, no pun intended."

He laughed.

"It was an experience but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I've wrestled all over Europe and Africa and there was never a dull moment, trust me."

"I imagine. You always put on a good show though. Your style is very different."

"Mine is a mixture of the European style with the mat wrestling crossed with the Japanese style of striking. I like to toss in the aerial movements as well."

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked. "All the high flying and your 450 splash is amazing. I mean it. It's beautiful. You look so controlled in the air."

"My father was my first trainer. He taught me all about the business, tried to get me mentally and physically prepared. I loved wrestling so much that I wanted to do everything. Man, I was like a sponge just trying to soak up every bit of knowledge possible. I had no fear and I guess that mentality sort of stuck over the years. There is no greater feeling that being in the ring in front of the fans. I can't describe the rush that I feel when I climb on that top rope. I felt it for the first time 14 years ago and it never left, it's like I'm addicted to it."

"I guess that's why it comes across as so natural. Raw talent like that can't be taught."

"What about you?" he asked. "Obviously you're a big wrestling fan. Was it always that way?"

I shook my head.

"Not really. I never had a big interest in it growing up. When we were teenagers Mike had already created his alter ego The Miz and I knew he was into it. I mean, I'd watch it with him sometimes but I never really got into it until right before we got married. Mike and I were high school sweethearts but we broke up when we started college. There were a few years where we had no contact at all and then we kind of reunited. By then he was hardcore into the training and trying to break into the biz. I only tagged along to support him. It's a funny story, the first live match I ever went to. It was an Indy show and Mike was wrestling and I had no idea about it being, well, I hate to use the word fake…"

"Pre-determined, choreographed…" PJ's eyes twinkled.

"Way better choice of words, thank you," I smiled. "Anyway, I had no idea. I thought it was completely real and Mike was jobbing that night and he's getting his ass kicked all over the ring and I'm in the front row screaming at the other guy ready to beat the living tar out of him with this huge purse I had. I was so pissed off, then when it was over and Mike explained everything, I felt kind of foolish."

PJ laughed out loud.

"I'm sorry…"

"Sure you are," I teased. "Go ahead, make all the fun you want. I guess I deserve it."

"I swear I'm not laughing at you. It's a sweet story. I'm imagining you getting all worked up, I bet you were so cute."

"The other guy I was threatening to kill didn't think so," I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, Mike has never been much of a high flyer and as the nervous girlfriend turned wife, I was actually happy about that. It made me way freaked out. I was so afraid he was going to get hurt. Even now as I know more about the business, watching you guys do that, as awesome and exciting as it is, I swear with every Moonsault or 450 splash or Shooting Star Press, my stomach just turns because I get so fearful of someone getting hurt."

"The risk is there and we're all aware of it. You have to be. Thinking you're invincible is a sure way to get hurt but at the same time you can't dwell on it too much. The most important thing to remember with any aerial movement is balance on the takeoff and control in the air so you can land the right way on your intended target."

"Have you ever seriously been hurt?" I inquired.

"No, thank God and knock on wood. I mean, I've had some off landings and tweaked ankles, knees, shoulders and fingers plenty of times but nothing ever so serious that it sidelined my career."

I nodded.

"I guess the toughest thing about falling is getting up afterwards and trying it all over again."

I was talking about wrestling but drawing parallels to my own life and it was lost on neither of us.

"Well, I've got an idea," he finally said, his eyes flickering with mischief.

I frowned.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about that one already?"

"My father once said the only way to truly combat fear is to face it head on so with that said…"

"PJ."

He climbed back into the ring, walking over to one of the corners. He flashed me that million watt smile and pointed a finger beckoning me towards him.

"You're up," he stated.

"Pardon me?"

"Come on. I want you to fly with me."

I giggled nervously.

"Um, thank you very much for the invitation but if you don't mind, I prefer staying right here on the ground."

"We can save the advanced stuff for later. I just want you take the first step, which is the hardest one."

I stepped into the ring with him. Up close looking at that top rope, it seemed way higher and way more intimidating.

"I, I don't know, PJ. That looks really scary and I'm about as graceful as a one legged toad…"

"Inside the ring, the name of the game is trust. All your trust lies with your opponent, your partner and yourself. Sometimes it's a real leap of faith but you have to be willing to take that plunge, Claudia. Trust me."

He extended his hand and the words coming from his mouth produced chills all over my body. I sucked in a breath. I was scared but it suddenly didn't matter. I took his hand and let him guide me. He helped me to the top rope and held my hand once I was there. He never let go, all the while verbally coaching me and making sure I was protected. At first I was wobbly and psyching myself out but after a few minutes I relaxed. It wasn't so bad. I bounced and jumped and played around.

"You think I'm ready for a Swanton Bomb?" I joked.

"Getting there," he winked at me.

Finally I jumped off the top rope and he was right there to help, to catch me so I wouldn't fall. I smiled and found myself staring up close and personal into the captivating gaze of those hazel eyes.

"Okay guys, let's get this ring down," one of the crew members clapped his hands, signaling the others to come help.

I looked away from PJ, feeling the crimson still flushing my cheeks.

"I guess that's our cue, huh?" I sighed.

"I guess," he smiled at me.

We cleared our throats and only parted as the crew filed inside the ring. I went about helping as usual but I was grinning on the inside like a Cheshire cat. It had been a good night. It was all about being comfortable and it didn't matter if you were facing a fear of heights standing on the top rope of a wrestling ring or if you were starting a new chapter in life and trying to be relaxed in your own skin. It was an important lesson all the same and I was grateful to my instructor.