I walked towards the gym red nosed and puffy eyed. My tears had finally subsided, but they would return. I accepted that once I left Oakland Gymnastics that day, I would never return. I knew in my mind that this day would come, but I hadn’t expected it to be so soon. I wanted to move on and try new things, but the thought of leaving the place I spent the last 12 years of my life made my heart shatter. However, I finally made the decision that I was going to quit club gymnastics, but continue on as a high school gymnast. When I entered the gym, I noticed the sullen expressions on my teammate’s faces. My heart sank when I realized it could be the last time I ever saw them. They ran up and embraced me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Tori, who I had known for at least five years, seemed shocked by my departure. “I can’t believe you are leaving us,” she sniffed. Tori was considerably shorter than me, her head just barely reaching the bottom of my nose. She often called me …show more content…
As I started my routine on the back bar, an image appeared in my head. I saw myself seven years ago, hands gripping tightly onto the bar with my chin hovering inches above the surface. My tiny arms were shaking and my knuckles turned ghostly white, but the cheers of my team and coaches motivated me to stay up. Just before the pain became too great to bear, I heard the last girl’s feet hit the floor. I stayed on the bar until I was aware of what was happening, I had just won the annual chin up hold contest! I was overwhelmed with joy as I dropped to the floor, girls running to congratulate me. This contest was a huge deal at my gym. My picture hung on the back wall for a whole year, so I was reminded of my accomplishment every day. I snapped back into reality, smiling to myself. The memories were part of what made the gym so special to me. Just because I was leaving the gym, didn’t mean I was leaving behind all the memories as
When I arrived at my new and enormous high school, I got lost. It was June, and since classes had just ended for the day, large crowds of kids filled up the hallways, and I got bumped around like I did not exist. Thankfully, a cheerleader saw me and figured that I had come there for tryouts since I wore shorts, cheer shoes and a big bow in my hair. She took me to the gym where at least sixty girls had shown up for the competition. The first things I saw were cheerleaders doing high level tumbling on the gym floor with no fear. The upperclassmen led us in warm-ups, and they seemed nice. A lot of the girls I met had been cheering since they were five and six years old. I saw a lot of talent in the room, so I knew it would not be easy to
I had always had an odd passion for working out, even before I became a weightlifter. I endured years of volleyball conditions, all of which left me sprawled across the floor, drenched in sweat; however, I never complained. My muscles quivered, my heart raced, my lungs pressed against my ribs, and my body collapsed; but my mind was determined. However, I found myself alone in this sentiment.
When we first arrived I’d thought we’d taken a wrong turn and went to a traveling gypsy convention by mistake. The whole field outside the school was filled with tents of various sizes and colors. 200 wrestlers, about thirty of which were girls, filtered about the area. As my soon-to-be teammates and I headed to the first practice, anxiety gnawed at my stomach like a dog with a bone (FL). I wanted to impress everybody, and prove that I could make it in this sport. Before we started, the coach patted me on the shoulder. “I’ve got your back all right.” he told me. I smiled and nodded. At least one person was looking out for me.
Growing up my parents ran a little lake on the outskirts of my hometown of Shelbina here in northeast Missouri. I was the "tough" one out of my family by the time I was in the ninth grade I could use two weed eaters at the same time and pick up the back end of a golf cart. At 5'3 and wearing size 16 I was big girl and was often made fun of by my peers. I wanted to be something other than the "fat girl" at school. So I became stronger than an ox and used that to my advantage. My high school coach seen me one day bench pressing a picnic table and begged me to join the weightlifting program. I excelled at the class and became known as "Pipes" I went from being the chunky girl to being the girl that was respected for my bench pressing and squats. My coach believed in me and that was all I needed to continue to do my best. That year I made a C average except for weightlifting where I got an A and earned the respect from my peers and my coach.
Naturally, I faced the competition of other gymnasts, however, meets were not where my most valuable lessons were learned. The impact was greater in times I wanted to quit, and didn’t. For instance, my flyway, a skill I acquired as a child, became impossible for me to execute as a teenager. Each time I attempted to perform it, I froze, fear lingering in my mind. Frustrated, I contemplated abandoning my passion, yet, due to my persistence, I overcame the obstacle. I found quitting would never provide me the satisfaction I hungered for. Gymnastics also challenged my body. I suffered more injuries than the average gymnast with broken feet, fingers, toes, and elbows, a concussion, and two stress fractures in two years. My final injury, a torn labrum, resulted in hip surgery, six months of physical therapy, and the death of my college gymnastics dream. Through disaster emerged strength to cope with every roadblock I encounter. All of my life I had worked towards that goal, and with the lift of a scalpel, it was shattered. Thankfully, the qualities gymnastics has given me has transferred to every aspect of my life including my academic career. I have put in just as much effort in the classroom as I have in the
From this interview I have learned a lot about my athletic friend, Franchesca. I learned a lot about the sport of gymnastics and the complexities of it. Her life is so foreign from mine. I live in the small town of Pillager, Minnesota, while she lives in a big city and travels the county to compete with her team. Our lifestyles are completely different and this interview has really opened my eyes up to what her life is really compacted with.
When I was eleven years old I made a decision that changed my life forever. Ever since I was three years old I did gymnastics and I loved it. My dream was to become really good and win the olympics and become a world medalist. But this dream quickly was changed. After my eleventh birthday, I was starting to realize I didn 't want to do gymnastics anymore. I told my mom and she was heartbroken but let me do what I wanted, so I quit. Once I quit I decided I wanted to try something else, cheerleading. My mom was thrilled and found a allstar gym in sumner called React.. She emailed the coach but I already missed tryouts. The coach said I could come to practice and see if they needed me and if I would like it. I instantly fell in love and wanted to join. The coach liked me and loved that I could tumble. I made the team that night and my life hasn 't been the same since.
“If at first you don’t succeed try , try again.” At the age of six I was starting to play football. The game was a hard hitting running and commitment. I was six years old at the time now I’m fourteen a freshman in high school a lot has changed.
This meant it was time to start. Our team said a prayer, and then headed for the starting line. As I approached the starting area, I saw the opposing team. They were tall, big, and muscular. I could see the seriousness on their faces. They came to run, and they came to win. My conscience suddenly started to play games with my mind, and I started asking myself questions. “What if I didn’t train hard enough? “What if I am not ready? What if we lose?”
When I reached the weight area I noticed the surrounding walls covered in mirrors. Throughout the gym floor, next to water fountains, you can find plastic containers hinged against the wall filled with antibacterial cleaning agents and paper towels. The open space and the high ceilings trapped the sound of the ongoing pop music interrupted by the occasional grunt or the crash of a dumbbell on the matted floors. The metal on metal as weight bars are hoisted back onto their rack. The commotion of treadmills, elliptical, and stationary bikes is the white noise of the gym. Briefly, I analyzed my surroundings observing how the weight area was mostly male dominated with a handful of women, an absolute disparity in comparison to the cardio sections.
The worst words I’ve heard in my time fencing. These words sparked a long and boring two months of nothing. No running no fencing, no unnecessary movement. This long sabbatical has sparked great change, transcended my athletic self and influenced who I am as a person, through the ways it unleashed a new level of work ethic in my athletic self. Before I was injured I had it quite easy, do to a large amount of time I had spent fencing I could obtain success with relative ease. But now, I have no such ease. I had lost my point control and most of my footwork. An average person may have seen this as terrible and an end, but I’ve seen it as a beginning of new potential. This beginning has forced me to work at a redoubled rate, pushing myself to great extents to achieve the prowesses I once held. I developed habits of work, the days of half-assed practices and little effort are over. I have been motivated in a better way to change my habits and force myself to attain the greatness I desire in even better ways than before my injury. Not only did I apply this to my fencing life, but I have applied this to who I am as a person. I have taken the lessons learned in diligence and applied it to my school work, in any class where I have any struggle I make an appointment with the teacher and I complete every homework assignment as soon as possible. I have made the worst moment of my fencing career into the best. This is how
Last spring for the third time in a row, I shakily accepted my teacher's hand as he congratulated me on second place in women's division sparring. It was a bittersweet triumph, three times now I have lost to the same girl. She has become an icon for everything I wish to triumph over in this world. She is beautiful, hair like black silk, impeccable taste in clothing,makeup like a Renaissance painting, and average when it comes to everything else. I watch her silently stride into art class on three inch heels, skirt above her knee, no runs in her stockings, and manicured nails smoothing invisible wrinkles from he shirt.
But a sudden change came, the gym was going bankrupt and could not longer stay open. I moved to another gym, but I was devastated. All of my friends went elsewhere. I was now the oldest girl and not excited at all. My coaches convinced me to cheer and I’m so glad I did. We kicked butt this past year; we went undefeated in the season and were ranked number one team in our division out of every team in the United States. We won a championship ring and multiple jackets and titles. I bonded with my new gym and loved cheering even more than I previously
I continue gymnastics for a year after but it becomes miserable for me. I no longer have a passion for spending hours with my team doing flips. I come up with every excuse I can possibly think of to get out of going to gymnastics. During this year I have not yet admitted to myself that I am scared. After a year of tears, fear and exhaustion I approach my mom and explain my feelings to her. I decide to leave with all the amazing memories I have and leave a winner rather than being resentful and hating the thing I love the most.
The decision to return to the boxing ring presented many obstacles along the way. My daughter Aniya was barely a year old, while I was lost in contentment with my desk job as a night security guard. Though my shift was from midnight to six am during the week, I still had a commitment to running eight miles a day along with four r...