We are strangely selective about what counts as a sport.

Put a gymnast on a floor and the public immediately recognizes discipline, danger and elite performance. Put an aerialist in the air, whether on straps, hoop or flying pole, and many will not hesitate to label it merely as entertainment.

Under this general perception, it seems as if artistry somehow cancels out athleticism.

This could not be farther from the truth.

According to a 2020 University of Manitoba study of elite circus student-artists at Montreal’s École nationale de cirque, students typically complete 28 to 32 hours of formal technical and artistic classes each week, plus roughly 10 hours of supplemental informal training, on top of 10 hours of academic work.

In comparison, the total training volume for elite circus student-artists ranges from 40 to 49 hours per week, exceeding the training hours reported in studies of elite athletes.

And here is where the double standard becomes obvious. We celebrate pain and sacrifice when they happen in sanctioned sport. Meanwhile, we are faster to judge when the same effort is paired with music and makeup.

The world outside of practice is not any easier. Circus artists are not trained like athletes specializing in one position. To excel in any performing company, they need to adopt multiple disciplines besides their primary one.

Under the need to entertain, performance raises the bar, and physicality is forced to follow.

In gymnastics, for example, technical execution is the final product. In circus, technique is only the starting point.

For these artists, circus begins when execution meets storytelling.

This is not a case of circus wanting sport’s prestige without sport’s rigor. It is the opposite. Circus meets the physical standard, rigour and then adds another layer on top.

Circus is also unique in its high-risk environment, where heavy training loads are often masked by fatigue. Whether in traditional circus settings, or in modern contemporary productions, the culture of rest tends to remain an unwelcome guest.

When we fail to recognize circus within elite sports, the consequences are real.

In the StageLync series Unpacking Injury in Circus, Amiel Soicher-Clarke and Sarah Poole from the École de cirque de Québec discuss how injuries can be minimized by giving performers more agency and adaptability in how they manage them.

That is not the language of a hobby, it’s the language of a field dealing with serious physical stakes.

Circus is not lesser because it is beautiful. Ballet is not lesser because it is expressive. Aerial arts are not less legitimate because they ask the body to tell a story while surviving the workload.

If anything, that should earn more respect, not less.

Maybe the problem is not that circus fails to fit our idea of sport. Maybe the problem is that our idea of sport is too small to recognize excellence when it comes wrapped in art.

This story was re-edited and republished on April 1, 2026.