Merry Christmas!

Wow, Homegirl can move!

The Buy-In

As Incubus would sing, "Are you in?"

It's taken almost a year, many tears, many phone calls, many scowls, and many sore muscles. But the Level 4's have bought in.

Of all the levels, they have the best attendance. They come each day they're supposed to and sometimes extra. They're most likely to attend open gym sessions. A couple disappeared in the spring months but now they're back, consistently. They attend all the competitions. And they are doing well. Awards are won. Even with subpar performances, they can pulled 34's in the all-around. This is solid. This means a foundation is in place.

It took time for the parents. Some of them are easily rattled. They don't like to see the tears. They're not a fan of all the conditioning. I'm sure there will be future confrontations. But they're starting to like what they see: new skills (cartwheels on beam, back tucks on floor, kips on bars). Success at competitions. 9.0's, 9.2's, 9.5's. Standing on the podium. Yes, that sure feels good.

The Season of Giving

Back in the high school varsity days, to say that our meets were slimly attended would be an understatement. At home meets, curious friends and bystanders might walk in. At away meets, my parents were our spectators. My parents are small people and don't make much noise.

So at this particular competition, as we and the other team finished warm-ups and the judges still hadn't arrived, it's safe to say that the crowd wasn't antsy.

If there was anything our team excelled at, it was entertaining ourselves. We took the free time to perform our team dance, which we may or may not have spent more time working on than our routines.

We rocked out to Christina Aguilera, did a little tumbling, and ended with our signature move: a row of spotted back tucks. We stood in a line, arms around each other's backs, and every other person did a back tuck, rolling over the arms of the people on each side. Simple, but never failed to look cool. Then we applauded ourselves wildly.

After a moment, the other team walked over.

What was about to happen? A retaliation dance? A spat culminating in "it's not called gym-NICE-tics"?

"That was so cool," they said. "Can you teach us how to do that?"

When they put it like that, how could we say no?

Eyes Wide Shut

Today begins the attempt to change the team's apparent destiny (re: to finish in the middle-to-bottom of the pack).

I line the girls up in front of the mirror and tell them to practice their beam routines. Not the skills, but the arm and foot positions.

"But I can't fit my cartwheel!"

"Not the skills..."

After I repeat this several times, they understand.

They move through their routines several times. I fix arm, hand, chin positions, posture. Once they're done, I say, "Now, three routines with your eyes closed."

"Wait, what?"

"With your eyes closed."

The giggles. The falling over and grabbing each other as they squeeze their eyes shut, mouths open in concentration.

Meanwhile I pace back and forth , playing the role of the Zen yoga instructor, saying, "Feel where your body is in space. Feel what your arms are doing, where your feet are." I grab one's arm to emphasize. She nearly falls over.

Hey. I have faith.

::head against the wall::

Stepping out of bounds and continuing to perform the routine...out of bounds. Countless falls on beam. Wedgies picked mid-routine.

Really, girls, really?

Question of the Day

Alejandra: "Why are you so awesome?"

WIN!

And here's my question for the day:

Is a side aerial considered a salto? As I recall, no. But I could be wrong/the rules might have changed.

S/he who provides the correct answer will inspire me to do a little dance.

Update: It is NOT a salto. In case any of you were losing sleep over the answer.

A case of the headcases

Meet's this weekend, and now the craziness comes out.

Scared of this skill. Scared of that skill. Sudden realizations of "Wow, I haven't been in the gym for a while, and I don't have all the skills in my routine, and that's not good." I scramble to cut music for one girl.

Many tears. Many questions from the parents -- what should she do?

I don't want to make sweeping assumptions here, but does this mean that the girls care enough to panic? If so, that's progress. Now let me grab my mop.

#1 Commonly Asked Pre-Meet Question:

"What happens if I sneeze during my routine?"

Answer: I don't know. I've never witnessed such an occurrence. Naturally, I assume there's a deduction (continuity, perhaps). But maybe there's a loophole for accidental bodily functions. Who knows?

All I want for Christmas

is to be done with choreographing floor routines!

Eleven down, four to gooooooo!!!

1996 Flashback

1.) I was obsessed with this music when I first started gymnastics. Clearly, I hadn't yet begun my love affair with DARK, DRAMATIC, TOSSING THE BODY TO THE FLOOR music. (Maybe not so dark, but certainly dramatic, and I always threw myself to the floor at some point.)

But it's kind of rockin'...in its way:



2.) Aqui esta the gold standard. The tumbling. The dance. The 'tude. It's insane. Only Lilia could pull off music this ridiculous.

Landing On My Feet (and Face, and Sternum)

Let's turn to gym nonfiction, one bio at a time.

Back in the day I was aware that "with [author name]" meant that most likely the second author had done all of the writing. The bios/autobios all ended on an upbeat note, usually leaving room for a possible comeback. Like movies that trail off for a potential sequel.

Even so, what strikes me about this book is the pain. The destruction to one's body. The excruciatingly slow rehabilitation only to be injured again. Like here:



(starts at :20)


Not to mention leaving home at age thirteen to train with Bela Karolyi, a bout with an eating disorder, struggles with confidence, and inevitably, unfulfilled dreams.
Feels like nonfiction to me.

Sideways

If the Level 4's aren't enough indication that the times are a-changing at the gym, the new USAIGC girls are. Which means, once again: older girls, watch out.

The IGC B-squad has never competed before. They consist mostly of Bronze with a touch of Copper.

IGC A-team, on the other hand, is the former Level 5's and 6's. They know what competitions are like. They've been plugging away for several years now. The B-team, not as long. But there's talent in the B's. Especially Erin.

Erin has the right attitude: she enjoys gymnastics and wants to improve, she's willing to try new skills without being reckless, and she's upbeat with a sense of humor.

Two of the older girls refuse to do back walkovers on the high beam. Or on the medium beam. They are fully capable of doing both. Greg has to coax them. It's a long, frustrating process.

Once their rotation ends, the B-team comes to beam. "I really want to get my back walkover today," Erin says.

She does a few with Greg on the high beam. He steps away. She cranks them out by herself.

The next day, I fully expect her to say, "Can you spot me for a few?" That's what the other girls do. They acquire a new skill, but they don't believe in it.

Erin warms up on the low beam, then moves to the high beam without incident. "Let's put it in your routine," I say.

"Okay," she says, relaxed, unpanicked.

The older girls watch.

"Aren't they scary?" Kelsey says.

Erin shrugs. "Well, it's scary when you're going back. But not."

A touch of inspiration

Aimee Walker played a role in Little Girls in Pretty Boxes, a movie I watched primarily for the stunt doubles (which included Vanessa Atler). I thought of her today and decided to search to see what had happened to her. She's deaf as well as blind in one eye. But as you'll see, she turned out just fine.

Black Friday Deals, gymnastics edition

In honor of American stores and their post-Thanksgiving shopping deals, I'd like to reflect on pretty good deals I've received.

Gripes about judging will never end. Of that we can be sure of. But we'll all once in a while come across a gift. Sometimes, it's applied to us.

Honorable mentions:
-Young Mariah of the Level 4's competed a timid (to put it kindly) beam routine. She looked ready to fall off at a moment's notice, but managed to stay on. While the others received brutal scores, an 8.0 was raised for her. Was it an error? Nope, the score flasher didn't alter the score. In fact, Mariah pulled out third place in her age group. "Mariah? Really?" Coach P. said in disbelief as she scampered onto the podium.

-High school beam, senior year:
Flight series were driving me nuts. So I decided, screw them. How about competing without major anxiety? Instead, my beam routine consisted of a cartwheel, a lovely split handstand, and a variety of jumps. Under Level 9 rules, I consistently scored 8.6's and 8.7's. Good deal, I'd say.

The winner:
-At actual Level 9 meets, I had to attempt to fulfill the rules. In this particular competition, I fell on my back handspring and had no flight series. My jump connections were questionable. I landed one jump and my leg flew up for balance. I turned it into a pose. I did not stick my dismount.

The score: 8.6. Pretty sure I placed, too.

How'd that happen? No idea. The only explanation: sometimes the magic's on your side.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Though she placed second all-around by a hair, let's be glad that this happened:

Volunteer Opportunities for American Cup & U.S. Championships

can be found at the bottom of this page: http://www.usagym.org/pages/events/pages/premier_events.html

Not sure that it'll be as exciting as Rotterdam, but it's worth a look!

Bottoms Up

I write often about motivation--namely, how the girls vacillate between excitement and apathy.

There's one factor I haven't addressed yet. For good, bad, or worse, the oldest girls in the gym--the ones who have pushed through Level 5 season after season--are the best. We have no high-level athletes yet. They can watch gymnastics on TV or online, see the girls at other meets, but when it comes to day in and day out, their teammates are swimming along beside them. There is upward movement, but it's slow.

If they can't look up, they can certainly look down.

That's where the young Level 4's are, the ones who were originally cute and tripping over themselves and flailing on the beam. They're still cute and sometimes still flail. But each day that an older girl stays at the same skill level, a younger girl breaks through.

Is this the best motivation? Is it easier to idolize than to race to keep the lead? We'll have to find out.

All I know is that when seven-year-old Colleen, who last year at this time could barely do a good round-off, runs across the floor and lands her first round-off back handspring back tuck, the older girls are watching. Some of their mouths are open. Did she just--? Yes, she did. Now what about you?

To be a rock, and not to roll

My old teammate, who is also a coach these days, asked last night, "Which did you find more stressful: being a gymnast, or being a coach?"

Gymnast.

As a competitive athlete, I lived in constant fear of injury or failure. I had many wonderful, high-flying, glorious times. And many, many hours of anxiety. Most of it, I put on myself.

There are many days when I miss doing gymnastics and especially competing. But I don't miss the fear.

My gym's environment is probably the key element as to why I find coaching less stressful. We're still a new establishment. There's no long-held reputation to maintain.

Certainly, I'm nervous when it comes to parental encounters, safety, and poor performances at competitions. But I'm happy in the gym as a coach. Relaxed and alert, clapping my hands and announcing what's next.

:55

"You're barely at fifty seconds," I say as Amy lands her dismount. "Let's try again."

She nods and climbs back onto the beam.

At the USAIGC bronze level, routines must fall between :50 and 1:30. The undertime penalty is a five-tenth deduction.

When my girls wobble or struggle to remember their routines, they easily make this range. When they hit and move confidently? That's when they're on the brink.

I like insurance. "Let's add a few poses. And how about a handstand?"

I'm afraid that the "few poses" are beginning to look the same across the board for the girls. A flexed knee, a hand on the hip. I try to be exotic. Add some interesting arm and hand shapes.

Amy looks at me blankly.

Back to the hand on the hip.

Brittany, on the other beam, asks about poses we made up a month ago. "What do I do here?"

I've made up seven more routines since Brittany's for the new batch of USAIGC girls. "I have no idea," I say honestly. "When in doubt, make something up."

"I like that," she says. "That's going to be my motto."

It's true. Some of the girls become lost if they're off with their floor music -- either before or ahead. Others keep moving, making up poses, maintaining a serene face that pretends, I'm supposed to be doing this until they're back on beat.

Amy tries her routine again with the new poses and the handstand. It's all a bit awkward, but she stays on. "1:05," I say. "You pass."

Gym Fiction

At present I'm Googling for gymnastics books, the fictional kind that I gobbled up as a pre-teen in the sport. The series all had a knack for referencing weird, obscure skills that nobody would compete, gym inaccuracies, and high drama. Think "Make It Or Break It" without the sexual tension. They often cropped up around an Olympic year.

I remember this series, "The Gymnasts," at my local library. It culminated in one of the athletes winning the 1992 Olympics (sorry for the spoiler), and I recall that the girls spent more time making snarky comments to their coach than actually practicing. Which, to be honest, reminds me of my girls sometimes. The author also had an obsession with Pearl Jam's "Jeremy," as every gymnast competed a floor routine to a piano rendition of this song.

In the post-1996 world, Kerri Strug's ankle still healing, I read this four-book series, "American Gold Gymnasts." I must say that while the gymnastics bits lacked in accuracy, there was some genuinely good material about the token Russian girl adjusting to American life, and some funny moments when an evil new coach comes to town.

Then my girls the Sweet Valley High Twins turned to gymnastics, or at least Jessica did. Funny, she was suddenly doing giants to a double back when we never saw her step foot in the gym in previous books.

Also, as a huge Boxcar Children fan in my pre-gymnastics days, I somehow missed this gem. Russian gymnast with a secret? What's not to love?

Face plants, or rather, Facebook

The text from John: "Sooo Jamie just messaged me on Facebook. Awkward? And no, I'm not friends with 11-year-old girls."

In late September, a debate on whether or not to friend one's athletes cropped up on Gymnastics Coaching. Originally, my stance was NO WAY.

But to my surprise, about half of the commenters wrote detailed justifications for friending the gymnasts, most mentioning how privacy settings can be adjusted so that the gymnast sees little to nothing of the coach's profile.

I still maintain a laissez-faire approach -- that is, hands off my profile, and my hands off yours.

And John decided it was best not to message Jamie back, nor friend her. He's an upstanding citizen, and he'd prefer not to end up in jail.

An acceptable midway? A communal fan page or group, where everyone can interact with the awareness that they're monitored. We have such a page for the gym and the girls post on occasion. I'm all for team pride -- and privacy outside of the gym.

We're in a Zen State of Mind

Back in action after a mini hiatus. Let's doooo this.

"It's always a good practice when my blood pressure doesn't rise," I say to Greg. He laughs but he knows it's true.

Some practices, like tonight, are marvelous: a slew of kids achieve new skills (we had six tonight -- definitely a record), and on the whole, everyone's plugging away at their routines, paying attention, invested in the moment.

Other nights, I want to yell at everyone, get my car, and drive into the night.

Sometimes the girls are 'tudey. Or they're all "injured" (i.e. icing themselves for approximately ten minutes, then returning to full mobility) and one poor soul is left tumbling by herself. Not so motivating.

Other times it has nothing to do with the girls but everything with the surrounding environment: lots and lots of class kids, lots and lots of Parkour boys climbing and flipping anywhere. The radio playing. Small children who don't pay attention and run across the beam mats as a girl prepares to dismount. I raise my voice so the girls can hear me. They're not the loud ones. It's all the background noise that rises to a clamor.

But some nights, I pause before I snap. I tell myself to keep calm. Stay cool, let this battle pass. Let it all roll off.

Gymnastics in Namibia

Random, but happened upon this article. Not many details and the gymnasts in that photo look pretty unhappy despite their trophies--you can imagine their parents with cameras saying, "Just one more! Wait, another one!" But it's cool to see gymnastics afoot in unexpected places.

A Case of the Mondays

Today's the kind of day when I leave the gym feeling frustrated. Not enough accomplished at practice. Not much will and motivation coming from the girls. Persuading them to try new skills could be compared to pulling teeth, except in that situation, the patient can't talk. That would make my work easier.

Here's to a better rest of the week!

Take a bow

Two of the girls have moved on.

Jamie fizzled over the summer. Her mom said it had to do with all her injuries, but I think it had more to do with Coach P. Jamie liked him. But I don't think her mom did.

For a while I was sure she'd come back. I still hope she does. But it's November and there's been no peep. Possibly she's at another gym. She should be doing gymnastics, even if it's not with us. She's too talented not to.

Maya went AWOL after May. She went off to camp, then was occupied with her 8687686 extracurricular activities. And now she's switched gyms. I have to confess: I'm not sure that I'm sorry to see her go. She has talent. But her attitude exceeds her talent, and it's exhausting to wrestle with.

Besides these two, our gym maintains a stable retention rate. The team's a touch smaller now. But we regroup. We go on.

Compulsories and Me

Dear USAG,

Shall I compare thee to the previous cycle? It may happen. A little bit. But you'll handle it.

In non-iambic pentameter, I bear unto you my grievances with Level 4 and Level 5. (Level 6, I'm pretty okay with. I support the motion to exchange the aerial for the front tuck on floor. We see eye-to-eye on that.)

Vault:

Grievance: Level 4 - handstand to flat back position on the mats

I am not convinced that a solid Level 4 vault means success in training a front handspring over the table. They are two different animals.

Proposal: Push the mat behind the table. Drop the table to its lowest setting. Perform handstand to flat back in this manner -- handstand on the table, pop to flat back on mat.

Achieving a handstand on the mats and doing the same on the table are visually, physically, and mentally different experiences. Expose the athletes to the feeling of blocking off the table, as well as overcoming anxiety about reaching out.

Uneven Bars:

Grievance: the front hip circle and the mill circle

I'm still new-ish to this game. Maybe there is inherent value in the front hip circle.

But the mill circle? Teaching undergrip when an athlete might return to it at Level 7 at the earliest, if at all? So many hours of my life spent teaching that skill only for it to vanish as soon as Level 5 arrives.

Just make it go away.

Proposal: An isolated, large cast.

I'm not opposed to the shoot-through. It's a good lead-in to the squat-on. It also helps the athlete learn how to lean their shoulders over the bar to counterbalance their body weight as they cast.

More casts early on!

Second proposal: Replace underswing dismount with a squat-on, jump down to the floor and stick.

I know. I know. The underswing plays a role in Level 5 and 6. It's just a modest proposal.

Balance Beam:

Grievance: the fish pose, and similar choreography

Okay, the fish pose is simple for Level 4. But by Level 5, I think we're ready to step up our game. We bemoan the lack of artistry in elite gymnastics these days, but look at what's mass produced at the lower levels.

Proposal: Bring back the kick turn of the old Level 5 routine (and the two split jumps in Level 6)

Sure, the kick turn wasn't essential. But it was pretty, and dance-like, and required control and flexibility while turning on the non-dominant foot.

I'm okay with the squat-turn's elimination, however. Some things don't wear well.

Floor Exercise:

Alas, we arrive at the biggest grievance of all:

GOD-AWFUL MUSIC.

Even for the most hardcore of us, compulsory gymnastics meets wear on the soul. They are repetitive. They are not exactly inspiring.

And music like this (the random rattlesnake noise is the highlight) and this don't help. At all.

Proposal: Around the world for centuries, and probably going back to when the cavemen drummed on their rocks, musical prodigies have composed lyrical, stunning pieces. Bach's not around to demand that we pay him royalties.

Let's tap in. Let's--dare I say it--teach the lowest levels to tell a story through a routine.

Sincerely,

La Em

This one's for the boys

Here's a video I took of Steve Legendre during the men's team final. Not a great day for Team USA, but this routine was certainly a highlight.

Although I follow women's gymnastics more closely, I'm decently well-versed on the men's side. If it's on TV, I will watch. I know the major players and can identify some skills without the help of the commentators.

The latter stems from a well-worn tape of the 1997 World Championships, specifically the event finals. Sandwiched between the women's events were the men, and I didn't discriminate; I watched Jury Chechi rock rings countless times. Jesus Carballo and Jani Tanskanen swung high bar over and over again.

Then there was Ivan Ivankov's disaster. Ivankov was my favorite. Mild-mannered and awesome. His piked Kovacs too close to the bar, he clipped his chin on the bar -- ouch! But he remounted and finished. It only solidified my admiration.

Resurgence

There's good news in these parts. As the season approaches, our little Level 4's are looking good. Really good. They're sanctioned, and have all their skills, and the tears have subsided. For now.

But the polish is lacking. I have them practice the arm positions of their floor routine in front of the mirror. "Look at your arms. Look at your hands. Where's your neck?" I say dozens of times, the latter in reference to the popular habit of dropping one's chin. Nobody seems to have caught on to the fact that if they're looking in the mirror, they can watch what their body parts are doing and notice the things I'm repeating.

"You need to express yourselves," Coach P. says, but at ages six through eight, those words mean nothing to the girls (nor does the Madonna reference).

I'm thinking the next step may be good old-fashioned new media. Show them solid, high-scoring routines from the Internet. Film their routines so they can get a sense of what they look like. And push for that epiphany.

Fear factor

I knew this would happen.

Natalie's worked back handsprings on beam since the summer. Her attempts have been successful. Until today, when her hands scatter in all directions, her arms buckle, and she falls on her face. She's on the low beam and therefore doesn't suffer the extra blow of straddling the beam. But she does manage to fall in the exact same way on the next attempt, which is kind of impressive. Lightning striking twice and all that.

There's a rise of "Ooh's" and Natalie already has the "Oh em gee I'm never doing that again" eyes. "Can I--?" she begins.

My hand on her back. "I'm spotting you. Go."

I was an expert at avoiding skills that frightened me. Because I worked hard and never annoyed my coaches, I could enjoy a certain leniency if I needed it. They'd roll their eyes when my teammates complained of soreness or pain. But if I asked to ice a body part, I could. No questions to test the validity of my pain.

I could also use "I'd really like to work on my routines for States" as an excuse to not practice new skills. And it worked. Every time. Which is strange because I can see through my girls every time they try a similar excuse, the way that I can see Natalie's working up a way to get out of back handsprings forever. It will be a battle, I already know. She'll make scared faces and complain and constantly offer to work on other skills. "You can practice those," I'll say, "but you also need to do back handsprings."

Maybe I needed more of that as an athlete.

I spot her now. She lives. She's still scared. But if I can find a way to help her push through, I will.

Of candy corn and jack o'lanterns

are my socks made. "BOO!" circles the socks in two sections.

Basically they're one of the best finds of the Target $1 section. They complement the uber orange volunteer pants from Worlds, as well as the white polo with "World Championships" in orange letters. Of course. Go, Netherlands!

"I have a question," says Alejandra, as she always prefaces her questions.

"Sure," I say.

"If that was your uniform, were the socks part of it, too?"

To the salt mines

Back at the gym, I field the expected "Did you compete at Worlds?" (Alejandra used to ask every few months, "Did you go to the Olympics?") and the girls are happy to see me. I'm glad to see them.

Quote of the night:
Greg chides one of the girls after she does a terrible back tuck and concludes with, "You need to focus on what you're doing, not on who has a wedgie."

And for your viewing pleasure, a video I took of Raluca Haidu (a.k.a. Pitic) during the all-around final. Not her finest performance. But she's so darn cute.

E to the Epke

The Dutch love him. Even if you know nothing about men's gymnastics, he's spectacular to watch. And the crowd's reaction!

High bar showdown

A little more Worlds

Back home!

Odds and ends:

• SHOCKED when He Kexin missed her release on bars. Who wasn't? I saw her after the awards ceremony and the interviews, and she was still in tears.
• Of course, after two falls from China's, it was Beth Tweddle's world title to lose. Besides a step on the dismount, she was great. No one else could touch her.
• Bridget Sloan's bars have a nice, relaxed feeling to them. Smooth and easy. She shouldn't have any problem upping her difficulty.
• Very happy for Lauren Mitchell winning floor!! She has so much talent and brings nontraditional skills to the table.
• Also good to see Romania cracking the medals (gold for Ana Porgras on beam, bronze for Diana Chelaru on floor -- doesn't she look a bit like Andreea Raducan?).
• Maybe after silver on beam and bronze on bars, Rebecca Bross will smile for real.
• Seriously, what's with the guys being ecstatic when they win a medal (re: team Germany for the bronze), but the women continuing the stoicism? It's okay to be happy, ladies!

I'm ready for Berlin Europeans!

Alicia Sacramone gets her gold

with two huge, well-executed vaults.

The next best in terms of execution was Brazil's Jade Barbosa, who placed third (and looked rather distressed about it). Mustafina, the silver medalist, was sloppy, especially in her second vault - was it intended to be laid out or tucked? It was both. Nabieva seemed to have a breakdown after her vaults. She too was sloppy.

The cameras held on Ariella Kaeslin, who was visibily nervous. She kept third place until Barbosa, the last competitor, bumped her out. It must also be noted that Kaeslin has beautiful hair.

Cool to see a Korean gymnast in the finals: Jo Hyunjoo, who looked super excited to be there.

Men's pommel horse right now, which also doesn't set my soul on fire. Uneven bars soon! He Kexin, Beth Tweddle, Rebecca Bross -- it should be exciting.

The women's all-around final

is another excuse for a bullet list!

• Rebecca Bross made one hell of an attempt to stay on beam after her Arabian went awry. I can already see the media (re: NBC) creating a Vanessa Atler-like "she chokes under pressure" campaign. At the same time, any time she does not win a competition lessens the "Carly-Nastia-Rebecca" triage. If that's possible. Which it probably isn't.
• Was it just me, or did China's Huang Qiushuang do a combination, miss an element, and redo the combination? Which should be a deduction, but she pulled out a 15.2?
• Speaking of scores, everyone besides the judges can see that the Russians are overscored on their Amanars. Bross's vault and bar scores seemed a touch low. She had a mighty aggressive bar routine.
• Crowd pleasers: plenty of fans dressed in orange to cheer on their countrywoman, Celine Van Gerner. The crowd went almost silent during her beam routine and applauded wildly for everything she did. She performed a very nice floor routine and several fans jumped to their feet, holding orange banners. Ariella Kaeslin inspired ringing cowbells and flags from the Swiss contingent. A small but loyal group cheered for Poland's Marta Phian-Kulesza, who went so far as to wear green glitter streaks in her hair. Now that's pride.

The men's all-around final

can be summed up like so:

I leave to eat dinner, the Americans are bombing out. I return, Jonathan Horton's lining up for the medal ceremony to receive his bronze medal. How about that for not giving up?

When in Rotterdam...

An update on the Dutch life!

The 2010 Gymnastics World Championships are well under way, and I'm presently watching the men's all-around. I must say that I'm not wildly invested, but it is delightful to watch Kochei tear it up. I'm pretty excited to see Rebecca Bross and Aliya Mustofina duke it out tonight.

Internet access hath been spotty, but I have it now!

Generalities, et. al. (a.k.a. an excuse to make a bulleted list):

• AWESOME view of the women's team final from the press stand. The beam was directly in front and I had the pleasure of watching Alicia Sacramone make a beast save on her front pike.
• The Italian girls all did unique, beautiful beam mounts.
• He Kexin's bar routine is breathtaking in real life.
• I was also able to watch the Romanian, Australian, Chinese, Russian, and USA girls train. Very cool to be "behind the scenes." The Chinese girls warm up similarly to how my girls do, minus the part where my girls do oversplits on a two-foot tall mat.
• The crowd at the men's team final wasn't huge, but it was mighty: Chinese chants and flags rose up, to be countered by German flags. The crowd loves Fabian Hambuechen and Kochei Uchimura. Who doesn't?
• Used my Spanish! It is mighty rusty!
• I've learned a few Dutch words, notably the numbers one through ten and "thank you." Consider me fluent.
• I'm finding it difficult to not speak in a fake Dutch accent.
• If you visit the Rotterdam Burger King, look for the pet mouse that inhabits the kitchen. Mmm. Sanitation.

In descending order

So close to Rotterdam!!!

Mind games redux

With such a history, how then do I prepare my girls to face competition?

So far my methods are traditional: Have them perform routines one-by-one in front of the team. I try to mix it up a little by bringing over another group to watch, or another coach, or the secretary. A new pair of eyes to throw them off a bit. And I don't need to worry about simulating a noisy meet environment, since the girls who watch are never silent.

Somedays I propose a deal with everyone's favorite conditional construct: if you hit this routine, then (some reward, like working on new skills or getting a drink first or what-have-you). I make it clear: Like a meet, this is your one chance.

I have to say that my girls range between decent to very, very solid in competition on beam. Some are nervous but they fight. Others fight past the nerves and move confidently.

It blew my mind a little when the commentators at USA Nationals talked about Mackenzie Caquatto's struggles on beam, how she needed to "survive" the routine. (Of course, that easily could have been commentator dramatics.) You don't expect that out of an elite gymnast at a national competition. You expect that she can handle it. But maybe she reminds us: the beam is only so wide and no matter how good you are, nothing is a given.

Mind games

In the early years my mind was a wreck in competition. Thinking crazy thoughts during a beam routine. Working to rattle me as I tumbled.

At the end of the day I always competed just fine. Occasional meltdowns but we've all been there. I moved calmly and you would never guess the mental chaos.

I read a book about gymnastics psychology. All the gymnast biographies I could get my hands on. They all praised positive thinking and visualization. I visualized but found that my viewpoint kept shifting, like a filmmaker: first this angle, then this. I tried to "think positively," to "stay in the moment," but I was just too damn anxious. It was like my mind was saying, "Not only do you have to stay on a four-inch beam, but you have to defeat me, too."

I developed an excellent relationship with higher powers. As phrased wonderfully by a college teammate: "I talk to God every time I do a flight series." And so I did before every meet, during every meet. I had various requests ranging from "Don't let me die" and "Don't let my coach yell at me" (equally grave) to "Please let me qualify for [insert competition]." I must say the higher powers did an excellent job of upholding their end of the bargain (though I really brought nothing in return). But I remained tense, nervous.

What changed?

The battle never ended but it quieted as I got older, started realizing that competitions could be enjoyable instead of life-or-death. That I could be happy in the instants I wanted to rush through. That these times were finite.

Is it just fantasy?

I've heard of this previously, but I've received more than one e-mail about it: the Fantasy Gymnastics League. Is this legit? Is it a worthwhile use of time? Can Em and I combine our forces to coach the most awesome fantasy team ever?

Victorious (to the tune of "Notorious")

1. DONE with the first round of floor routines.
2. They're looking pretty sweet!
3. I beat Coach P. at a front tuck stick contest. Life is good.

Aplauso, aplauso

"Who goes first?" they ask on floor.

"Figure that out amongst yourselves," I say.

Insert melee. "I'm going first! Fine, then I go second! No, I already called second!" They run to the CD case for their music. "I go after her!" someone calls.

"I think they come to practice just to do their floor routines," Coach P. says.

It's quite possible. I haven't seen this much sustained excitement in awhile, at least not for an activity that's strictly gymnastics-related (running outside or frolicking in the pit--those, of course, are always winners).

Dare we call this motivation? Will it last? I don't know, but I hope to perpetuate it as long as possible.

On the approach of Gymnastics Worlds 2010...

...I'm excited!!!

Here's to de-Americanizing my wardrobe, not wearing white sneakers, avoiding public transit during rush hour, and watching out for people with fake arms. That's right. Much like the Spanish Inquisition, you never know when the fake arm will strike.

You should be daaaancing, yeah

Brittany, the team's best dancer, watches me as I execute a ball change. "I can't do that."

I slow it down. Show her in front of the mirror. Tell her to copy me.

"Do it again," she says. "I'm confused."

"Didn't you used to do ballet?" I say.

"Yes."

"You can do this." I show her again.

"Nope. Not happening."

"All right," I say. "Something else."

When in doubt--plunge the routine to the floor. Stop, drop, and roll. Throw in a flexible kick or two, hope it hits the right notes. Certainly this is more complicated than a ball change, but now Brittany's following me. Whatever works.

We're [more than] halfway there

I'm tired tonight. But we have made progress. Only 1.5 floor routines to go!

--

Today on floor:

Colleen to me: "Can you teach me how to do a back layout?"
Dana: "Colleen, you don't even know how to do a back tuck."
Colleen with a shrug: "That's okay."

From D.C. with love

My lovely lady Danielle is in town this week, so in her honor:

Before our first meet as seventh-graders on the middle school team, someone made up half of Danielle's floor routine. Maybe it was our coach or another gymnast. Danielle selected a rearrangement of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" that was quite rockin' and not kiddish, if you can imagine such a thing. The opening choreography worked. But whoever started the routine never got around to finishing it. 

At the competition, Danielle still didn't have the rest of the routine. Nor did she have it when she saluted the judge and the music began. We watched as she performed the first half. Then, pumped with creative spirit and adrenaline, she free-styled the second half by running in circles, leaping, and front handspringing. She repeated these elements until the music ended. Her score was lost in the annals of time, but you can be certain we rewarded her with the loudest of applause. And a bit of giggling.

When all the world's your stage

"Good job with the floor routines," Greg says as the girls line up at the end of practice.

"They should be on YouTube," one girl says.

Natalie's eyes light up.

"Let's shoot higher than YouTube," Greg says.

"How about Facebook?" Natalie says.

Fair enough.

Of Music and Nincompoops

I read this article (perhaps "rant" is the better word?) and must throw in my two cents, especially in regards to this excerpt:

Mark Bauerlein, author of the best-selling book "The Dumbest Generation," which contends that cyberculture is turning young people into know-nothings, says "the absence of technology" confuses kids faced with simple mechanical tasks.

But Bauerlein says there's a second factor: "a loss of independence and a loss of initiative." He says that growing up with cell phones and Google means kids don't have to figure things out or solve problems any more. They can look up what they need online or call mom or dad for step-by-step instructions. And today's helicopter parents are more than happy to oblige, whether their kids are 12 or 22.

"It's the dependence factor, the unimaginability of life without the new technology, that is making kids less entrepreneurial, less initiative-oriented, less independent," Bauerlein said.

I've spent a few hours today figuring out how to download music from YouTube, cut it in Audacity, and import it into iTunes. Then there's the extra battle of ripping music from a CD, converting it to WAV, and placing it in Audacity for cutting. I did this all from online research. I also did this of my own accord.

Back in the day, I used to cut my floor music with side-by-side tape decks, rewinding and recording to make sure the transitions were perfect. Then CDs came into the picture and I did the same process, recording from CD to tape.

It's all technology, you see, and it's all mechanical. Just the methods have changed.

Sure, I'm not 12. But that's how old I was when the Internet became a relevant part of our lives. I can't help but think this mentality is of the recurrent "kids these days"/"technology = doomsday" ilk.

I'd argue that Internet searching affords a different independence, one we need in the digital age: the ability to ask the right questions and to piece together "found" information. To distinguish between authentic and useless. To test what they've found. And besides, we're going to need these 'Net-savvy kids as the world becomes increasingly digital.

Anywho, I'm off to take initiative and cut some more music!

Just like me, you've got needs

And all eight of you need me all at once.

The piecemeal (anyone else have this as an elementary school spelling word?) choreography practice quakes when the girls have reached different points of preparedness. Four have finished routines. Four have parts. The four with finished routines want to do their routines to the music. The four with parts want to, too. Out of eight, only two have no questions about their routines.

The other six fire questions like a dissertation defense, ignoring that I'm helping another girl.

"What do I do after this pose?" ::strikes pose from middle of the routine::

"Did I leave something out?"

"What do I do now?"

"I forget [insert entire section of routine]..."

"Am I with the music?"

"Can I do [insert skill] in my routine?"

"Can I go next?"

"Can I go after her?"

"Can I go after them?"

Audio and visual overload. Music on and off, laughter on and off, "Watch the corner!", "Girls, keep practicing during her routine - you don't have to stand there and watch" (of course they all do anyway), "Wait, what do I do after this?"--

Then they're gone for the day. I keep the routines. The poses, the timing. They forget, but I don't.

Wings to fly

At the world's insistence, I chose the much cooler option.

Right now the backs of my knees cringe. My arms battled the ropes during a double back and I've got some nice scratches. I convinced myself I'd die as I climbed the ladder, and again as I stood on the platform with my hands on the bar, a dude's hand on my harness the only thing stopping me from falling forward.

"Ready?"

Knees bent.

"HEP."

I jumped.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

It's gymnastics-related:

Choices, part two!

• Run an 8K race tomorrow morning;

or

• Go trapezing.

Should this even be a debate?

Hollie Vise + One Republic = Glory

As I prance around making up floor routines, a piece of beauty:



from gymnastike.

What Would You Do?

If I arrive on the Internet in the morning before I've read the paper (news + cereal = my preferred combination), I'm faced with a choice.

I can:

• Voyage onto the Times web site, click around on NPR, read the political posts of my Facebook friends.

or

• Peruse my favorite gymnastics blogs to see what's what in the gym world.

I'll leave my decision to your imagination.

She's So Lucky

The girls groan as they push through conditioning. "You're so lucky," they say to Kasey and Brittany, who do abs on the side. "I wish I didn't have to do this."

I had those days. Who hasn't? Under stressful circumstances at practice, sometimes I thought how nice it would be to have an excuse. Sit out, no expectations. Of course, not a real injury, I was quick to add to my fantasy. Just enough to bow out of bar routines for the day. I'd be braver the next day, up to the challenge.

In those days I didn't know yet what it was to sit out for days and months.

Brittany's ankles twist if the wind blows hard enough. It makes progressing in her tumbling that much more difficult. Nine out of ten days, she's icing at practice.

Kasey was just diagnosed patellar tendonitis and Osgood-Schlatter's. She can't straighten her knee when she walks.

"Yeah," she says sarcastically. "I'm really lucky."

Lean Body Mass

Coach P.: "Let's start strength."
Alejandra: "I'm gonna go throw up now."

Bird by Bird, Pose by Pose

It's still September. But soon it will be October, then November will whisk past, and then meet season descends.

The girls need beam routines. Some need floor routines. Some still look at me blankly when I ask if they've searched for music.

I've found a solution: the good old-fashioned assembly line.

Beam: I give them stations and take the first girl. We make up a mount. Send her to the next station and give the second girl a mount. We proceed in this manner until it's time to switch events. They all have at least a mount, a few poses, and one requirement (jumps, cartwheels).

Floor: is a bit harder. But I channel my old coach, who would listen to our music once and make up our routines. Always the routine fit the music. I was impressed then but really, unless you're hoedown dancing to "Requiem For a Dream," you can make the choreography match the music.

So I work it the same as beam. A starting pose, the first steps, a journey to one of the corners for tumbling. Sure, they don't all have music. Sure, one of the eight-year-olds wants to use an instrumental of "Teenage Dreams."

But it's either the assembly line or creating one master routine. While I know the latter would be faster, easier, it seems to me that the beauty of USAIGC is breaking away from doing the same routine as everyone else.

Back to Basics

I do many of these drills with my girls, but I like that this video is a reminder of the basics--keeping it simple! Pointing those toes, learning how to jump and land, etc.



From the YouTube channel of kollstolen.

Growing Pains

"Did you get taller?" Colleen asks.

"Thank you, Colleen," I say. "Nobody has ever asked me that."

Never mind that Colleen's brain orbits a distant star and you can't trust her judgment. Sometimes she has flashes of insight.

When I turned 21 and broke my foot, I learned that I was no longer growing. I had to face that when I imagined my "grown up self" in "grown up life" (teaching, strutting around in power suits, what-have-you), I would not be taller. As Emeline once announced, "You are not five-one."

Maybe in heels, Em. Maybe in heels.

My gymnasts are sprouting. Natalie's 5'3" and I suspect next week she'll be 5'5". Kasey and Kelsey have an inch on me. Brittany and I see eye-to-eye. Amy's shooting up the ranks.

I admit it's a little weird that the girls who turn to my opinion and corrections have to look down to receive it. I'm a little nervous when they ask for a spot. What about all those tall, buff guys working here?

That night, I see my friend Tara. The first question she asks: "Did you get shorter?"

Shawn Johnson FTW!

It's a feel-good day, and as such, in honor of SJ's comeback, here's her Olympic victory from 481095ymg2:



I don't know that this is the cleanest routine I've ever seen her do. But when I went to work that morning, booted up the news, and saw she'd won, I burst into applause at my desk.

Plus, this version has British commentary. What more could you want?

we've got a hot crustacean band

All right. We're doing this.

I sit the IGC girls down with a CD of music burned from YouTube. Someone, of course, asks what they need music for. The other girls fill her in.

"You don't have to use this music, but you can," I say. Translation: Please pick one of these songs and make my life easier.

They gather around the laptop. I skip the dramatic tracks and linger on the happy swing music. Granted, these girls are ten years old and on the cusp of "too cool for life." Soon they'll be on, "My life is too hard."

They listen. At the end, I ask if they liked any. "Number eight!" they all say. Arguments ensue. A game of "I'm thinking of a number between one and twenty" settles who gets number eight.

And what is that track? "Under the Sea." Not so uncool, after all.

Motivation proclamation

New for back-to-school: As soon as you walk in the gym, awkward school photos and candid lawn gymnastics shots of each girl greet you, along with fun facts. Favorite food? Best friend? Favorite gymnastics event? We've got the juice.

I think the attention's good. It makes the girls feel noticed, makes them stand up a bit taller. It may even make them want to work harder (imagine?!).

This summer, I sat the older girls down for an inspirational talk on goal-setting. Then I sent them to separate areas of the gym with pencils and paper. They returned with specific goals, which delighted me. Of course, some of the girls then disappeared for the rest of the summer, along with any hopes of learning new skills.

Today we hand out index cards to all the girls. It's official: everyone's setting a goal, and it's going up on the wall for all posterity.

I look over Alejandra's shoulder as she writes:

Bars: pullover
Beam: back tuck

We all gotta dream.

Semblance of September

After spotty summer attendance, it was nice to come back yesterday to a nearly full house. One light was out and it cast a stage-like glow over the floor as the girls ran around the floor.

A new season descends.

auspicious beginnings

"Who remembers their floor routine?" I ask the young Level 4's today.

"I don't!"

"Barely!"

"Parts of it!"

"A.k.a. not really?" I respond to "parts of it."

"That's right," she agrees.

At the eleventh hour

YES for devices that rip music from YouTube!

Rejoice!

de nuestros amigos sudamericanos

YAY for awesome floor music.

BOO that none of my girls can pull it off.

Gotta keep striving, yo.

Higher powers

In light of dramz at her gym, let's all hope that Beth and I can coach side-by-side. Better yet, let's take up a collection for gas money.

Endgame

For those who know me in real life, it's been a summer of "Where do I go from here?"

This might be my last year at the gym. If I get into a Ph.D. program nearby, or that "full-time job with benefits" my mom keeps mentioning, I'll stay. If Ph.D.'s or jobs or what-have-you beckon from other lands, I'll go.

Will there be another gym? Quite likely. Will it be a "good gym"? I don't know. I'm not sure that's the world I want. What I do know is that I need to have multiple worlds, to live all kinds of lives.

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last...

(Name that poem!)

I return from a long weekend -- buenos dias!

The gym's closed for the week so the girls can get acclimated to school and the coaches can rest up for the inevitable "omg middle school is like so hard lol wut" that awaits us.

Coach P. and I left a present. On Wednesday I decided it was time for the IGC girls to attempt squat-ons. I sensed this could be deadly. Instead of the try-it-and-pray-there-aren't-lawsuits method, I asked Coach P. if he'd help me move the resi mat.

I Google-imaged "gymnastics resi mat" and found a disturbing lack of images for what I describe. I link you, then, to a high jumping mat that looks similar. They are tremendous and squishy, and during our team sleepover, fights erupted over who got to sleep on it. They're also quite onerous to move, especially if the gym's small and you have to climb over a dozen items on the floor while moving it. Thus ours stays by vault.

Coach P., the girls, and I lifted it over our heads and traversed the dangers of high bars, medium bars, floor bars. We dropped it in place.

Not surprisingly, the girls loved it. Their squat-ons were scary as expected but showed improvement. Any mishaps? Just land on the mat. We went around about twenty times and they were still eager and excited. Just as eager and excited as I was to move the resi back to vault.

Coach P. looked at the red beast. It would have to return to vault for tomorrow's classes of small children. "We'll do it in the morning," he decided.

"I won't be here in the morning," I said, feeling responsible.

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it."

On Thursday afternoon the mat remained under the bars. On Friday morning the resi mat was a huge hit, everyone jumping their classes from low bar to high. On Friday afternoon, the mat still hadn't budged.

I sense this will not change.

Kicking It Old School

"Tina" and I were talking about Tammy Biggs, a national team coach, during our delicious half-priced appetizers. As fate would deem it, I was YouTubing for Level 4 beam drill ideas when I found this video courtesy of thegymnasticminute.



I like this drill. It's simple enough for my girls who get about an inch off the beam.

Hugs, Not Kicks to the Head

Yesterday I covered for a rec class. It was all well and good until one little girl burst into tears. Her twin sister had kicked her in the head.

"I didn't mean it!" said the Kicker, eyes wide.

Her twin sat on the low beam and bawled.

"Go hug your sister," I said. "Make her feel better."

Kicker sighed.

"Let's go," I said.

She ran to her twin, tapped her on the shoulder in a faux one-armed hug, and ran back. "I did it!"

"A real hug," I said. "Minimum of five seconds."

Kicker signed more loudly. This time she hugged Weeping Twin by the leg for a instant. Weeping Twin cracked a smile.

"You want to sit out the rest of beam?" I said in my don't think you can sass me, little girl voice.

Kicker obliged, embracing her sister and counting onetwothreefourfive in one breath. "I did it," she said, exasperated. Weeping Twin laughed, her head trauma now healed.

So much love.

As the World Spins

Let us reflect on Summer 2010.

Accomplishments:

• I've choreographed four floor routines so far. A slow pace, but I'm pleased with the quality.
• We all survived the team trip to the local water park.
• Amy broke a growth plate at gymnastics camp, Colleen her ankle when running to her cubby. They have since recovered.
• Our new squad of IGC girls is rocking: huge improvements in flexibility and basic skills. Back handsprings occurring on floor, tumble track, and trampoline. Solid attitudes and hard work.
• The Level 5's and 6's make Coach P. shake his head several times a practice.
• Though he did get involved in a deep discussion of sleep habits and debated the pronunciation of "vocabulary" with them today.
• Several of the girls are entering junior high school. Channeling Joseph Conrad: The horror, the horror!
• I've had a couple of gym-related items published! They're under my real name. Call me Hannah Montana.
• Angie Baby visited WOGA, home of Nastia Liukin. I hyperventilated vicariously through her.
• The jury's in: photo with Marta wins.

Of glaciers and galaxies

It's safe to say I keep my vocabulary spiced and ready to go.

"That was as fast as a glacier," I say to one girl after her roundoff.

"What's a glacier?"

"It's a huge chunk of ice that moves about one inch every thousand years." I'm not sure if this is scientifically accurate, but her eyes widen. "Speed up your roundoff!"

Later I use the word "spacey," a normal term, and Colleen perks up. "What does that mean?" she asks as she flips her long ponytail over her shoulder.

"It means your head's in outer space," I say with hand gestures.

"Ohhh. I can see that!"

Quite honestly "spacey" is the perfect word for Colleen but I keep that to myself. She's seven. There's a chance she'll grow out of it. (Or not.)

And yesterday, while assisting Mariah with the Level 4 beam dismount, I explain that I'll only spot her if she does a decent handstand. "Otherwise it's too much yankage," I say, referring to when her feet don't get over her head and I have to pull her body from one side of the beam to the other. I proceed into an inspirational talk of kicking one's legs and attaining proper positions.

A pause.

"Yankage?" she says.

Obfuscators Anonymous

I have the itch to complicate. I hear complex music and I want to hit every beat, rise with every ascending violin.

It's exhausting.

The girls untangle my webs. In fact, they cut right through: "I can't do that," they'll say when I create a dance step. Or they'll look at me with a mix of panic and fear. Take it down a notch, I know.

Thing is that I hate floor routines where the gymnast moves slowly and hits a few poses while the music plays frenetically. We've all seen this. Good music deserves a good routine. But good music + awkward performance = cringe.

So I'm trying to compromise. Do-able dance that still looks decent (I hope). After they've tapped out the required tumbling and dance, there's still so much music left...

But it's easier elsewhere. I step onto the beam next to Kasey's. "Follow me," I say.

Clean poses. All the elements. Flicks of the wrist (I like to say, "Ping!"). Get off the beam.

My mind is clear: Keep it simple.

Emeline, you will love this routine

And she's from Guatemala, which is even more awesome:

Seeking the One

One ring to rule them all...

Or, in less Tolkien terms, the one who will rise above.

"I just want to coach one good gymnast," Coach P. says one afternoon while the girls break for water. The gym is busy today: small children dive into the pit, other children swing on the rope and hang upside down on bars, and inevitably some little girl cries.

One good gymnast is enough, he says, to inspire the other girls. To serve as an example. A girl who practices and competes at a high level.

"Who do you think it'll be?" I say.

He shrugs. "Some days they work hard. Other days they don't."

Coach P. has in fact worked miracles on the young Level 4's. The most spastic among them now have roundoff-two back handsprings on floor and back tucks on tumble track. Some still cry, but the parental complaints have slowed. They see that the girls are getting good. Or could be good.

The quest is on.

Rest Assured

My dad made mention of a Division I college gym team seeking an assistant coach. I Googled for funsies and found that the position offers not only "excellent" benefits, but life insurance. Life insurance! I forgot such a thing existed. Division I doesn't mess around, dead or alive.

Poker face

Gymnasts learn not to break. Smile for the judges but don't you dare let them see you cry. Commentators and reporters refer U.S. national champion Rebecca Bross's intensity in competition as though this is something new. I can think of few gymnasts who emote genuinely in competition.

What about their coaches?

"I don't need to watch the routines," my dad said when I competed in college. "All I have to do is look at your coach's face to know what's going on."

Gymnastics has famously excitable coaches: Who can forget Bela Karolyi's "you can do it" as Keri Strug prepared for her second vault at the 1996 Olympics? On the men's side, Yin Alvarez has the penchant to go berserk after his son's routines.

When do you turn it off? When should you?

During the college years, which were wracked by the expected dramas of 18-to-22-year-old life, our coach often sat us down to say, "Keep it out of the gym. Leave it at the door."

I believe in modeling behavior for one's athletes and students, and I think all of my coaches were guilty at some point for bringing "it" into the gym. Bad break-ups, pettiness with co-workers, depression and anger. We knew it, even if it was never stated overtly. The youngest kids felt it. Something was off in our small universe no matter how hard we tried to do well.

When I was a senior in high school, I parked at the gym before work and checked my voicemail. Anyone who knows me knows that I tend to neglect said mailbox. But I listened this day to a voicemail in which the dude I was dating broke up with me. I called him back and tears and "but can't we just talk about this in person?" ensued. Then it was time to teach preschoolers.

"What happened to your eyes?" asked a plump girl with pigtails.

"Allergies," I said. "Let's do forward rolls."

TFLN, Gym Edition

This is too good to pass up.

(716): The story about him having a girlfriend changed real fast when he found out that I was a gymnast

Keeping It Classic

The energy of the crowd is unreal. It's not a dancer's routine, not an exercise in elegance and aesthetics, but...you'll see.

La mano de Dios

Choreography is all about marking territory.

Two summers ago I made up a routine for a younger girl in the gym. Our coach usually choreographed but she was too busy. I went to grad school and later saw the girl at a competition. Our coach had changed the routine, she said, "but I liked your version better." She seemed sincere.

I've seen this many times. The tweak of a pose, the switch of arms and legs, the removal or addition of passages. You can call it revision from more experienced coaches, and surely that's so, but I call it imprint. The coach's hand at work, a hint of the preferred flavor. I bet a girl who began at one gym with one routine could rotate through several gyms and return with a routine hardly like the one she started with.

Would I do the same? I haven't been faced with it yet. So far our routines are homegrown and no girls have switched into our gym from optional or IGC levels.

You ask again: Would I do the same? Truth be told, most likely. Yes.

To hold one's body in place

Yesterday, I taught my oldest Level 4/5 to date. My dear twenty-two-year-old friend Beth and I went through the beam and floor routines in the grass. She just started/was thrown into coaching team and "needed to learn the routines from someone besides a seven-year-old." I pointed to the tree and the glass objects hanging from the line. "Those are the floor corners," I said.

"Can you press play?" she called to her father, who stepped into the jacuzzi and looked at us with amusement. Drizzle fell.

The last time Beth and I did floor routines was less successful. In college I made up her routine, including a minor dance move that I thought was simple. I was wrong. It ended up with me holding her head in place and Emeline nearby saying, "Look up NOW!"

At the end of yesterday's session, we both had dirt on our feet, grass on our shorts, and general confusion of left versus right. "At least you didn't have to hold my body in place this time," she said. A win, indeed.

Light as a feather

Spent last night in Connecticut at the senior womens' finals with some of the girls from my high school gymnastics team. This included: watching the actual meet, peeking into the VIP tent, pursuing Alicia Sacramone on the sidewalk, chatting with Mary Lee Tracy, and best of all, scoring a group photo with Marta Karolyi. Great success!

Whilst watching the USA men

"As a coach, you don’t just get the message across. You are the message." - Justin Spring

Live Blog: Nationals, Day I

(As opposed to Dead Blog?)

Rotation One:
-Kytra Hunter's tumbling is insane. A smile appeared during her routine, which you don't see much of these days.

-Tim and Elfi make a big deal of Mackenzie Coquatto staying on beam. She's very shaky. I feel as though if you state, "I'm going to finish in the top three" at senior nationals, you should be able to handle beam.

-I like Mattie Larson. She looks half-asleep. Her beam routine was the sads.

-I also like Alicia Sacramone's hair. No sads.

Rotation Two:
-All this "it's her title to lose" talk around Rebecca Bross reminds me of the Vanessa Atler bars drama. I'm not a huge Bross fan, but calm yourselves, commentators.

-However, her beam routine is pretty sweet. Very confident. Great pointed toes in the Arabian. A little to be desired in the sheep and switch ring. Overall, good stuff!

-I remember the meet at Brown when I beat Alicia on floor whilst she was in NCAA. A.k.a. the day she didn't compete floor.

-I love the sparkle motion on Alicia's leo. NICE layout and switch side. Also like the body wave-ish steps. Holy save on the dismount.

-Nice vault from Kytra.

-In the other room, my mom listens to "Bad Romance."

-Great double layout from Mattie. Really nice lines in her tumbling. High energy in the dance. Lol @ the strut before the last pass. Much better than beam!

-Aly Raisman's beam routine: shrug. A bit close to the beam on the dismount.

-Briley Casanova wins for the best name. Nice 1.5 turn with leg at horizontal on beam. Aaaand she's off the beam. Is it just me or do her toes flex up with her running steps? Ahh, I was a frequent offender of that.

-Vanessa Zamarripa with the old school geometric designs on the leo. Oof, fall on the full-twisting split jump. Great dismount -- stuck 2.5 twist.

Rotation Three:
-The crazy side of Alicia has settled down, a.k.a. the YouTube videos of her punching guys at parties?

-Oh, Bridget Sloan, that leotard. Yikes.

-She does, however, seem like a lovely person.

-Not particularly moved by Sophia Lee, but her music is interesting.

-I like Mattie's super casual hair. Good vault.

-How does one define an "international look"?

-Like the split jump out of Aly's first pass. Great triple full. She needs sass, stat. I feel like she's slightly off the music...not hitting the undertones.

-Nice Hindorff from Kytra. Very clean routine.

-Not really into Vanessa's choreography. However, at least it can be called choreograhy, as opposed to most of the other girls.

-I bet Lilia approves of Rebecca's first pass. Her choreographer needs to treat her kindly next time around. Eeks. Looks less confident here than on beam.

Rotation Four:
-After the Subway debacle on MIOBI, I cringe whenever Nastia opens her mouth on national television.

-Good vault from Aly. Not as grand as Alicia's will be, I wager. That better not be considered a stick.

-I love Kim Zmeskal.

-Chelsea Davis looks so young. Not like I'm one to say such things. The term "coming out party" is silly. Classy leo. I watched the Texas Dreams workout video the other day and was enthralled. SAFE. Kinda looks like she could be Chris Burdette's daughter.

-I'd like to see Mattie win. That would be cool. She is TINY. Good bars.

-"Texas just crushes everybody." - Al Trautwig

-Lots of empty seats. Maybe we'll be able to sneak to the lower levels on Saturday night!

-I like that Bross saved the stick on her vault.

-I wonder if Alicia will venture back to floor exercise ever? Not impossible.

-Damn, she attacks that table!

-Two fingers = double-twisting Yurkchenko?

-Indeed! She must be psyched.

-Must not have been fun for Bridget Sloan to compete in the last rotation. More aggressive than usual in her dance. Eeks -- comes right off in the layout step-out. Marta is not pleased, I'm sure. I thought Tim just said, "She needs to get help." He actually said, "Healthy."

-I wonder if I can obtain a piece of WOGA apparel.

Aaand we're out.

metagymnastics

About one-third of my girls realize that gymnasts exist outside of our team. They know who Shawn and Nastia are beyond the name on their leotard. Some can even drop other names.

The rest need a nudge.

"You have a homework assignment," I say. "You need to watch Nationals and next week tell Coach P. and me who your favorite gymnast was. And you need to tell us enough so that we know you actually watched it."

Easy enough.

The girls nod and talk about channels and times. Grace looks confused. "I don't know how to find it."

"Look it up online," I say.

"My computer is broken."

"Didn't you say before that you were watching YouTube?"

"That was on my iTouch. It doesn't have Internet. It just has WiFi."

"That is Internet," Natalie and I say in unison. "Go onto Google," I say.

"I only have Firefox."

Maybe not so easy.

Present Time (PT)

Much of this blog is background and context. What's going on now?

On the summer schedule, the levels come in at different times. Coach P. has the honor of being there for every practice. I split time with the older Level 4's and the 5's, and with the new USAIGC team. On the one hand, we're putting all the older compulsory girls in IGC. On the other, we have a USAIGC-only team that's never competed before. In the fall, they'll all practice together.

The USAIGC girls are behind the 4's and 5's. For the most part. There's one whippersnapper cranking out back walkovers on the low beam. And another girl who miraculously dropped her split from about ten inches off the ground to two. As a group, they're energetic and hardworking. I like this. So does Coach P. I think we can make something happen.

..

Dear Fran,

Play your cards right and maybe you too will conquer the mill circle!

Please, a little less drama!

(If you know what that line's from, I salute you!)

Now the quest is on to find cute, upbeat floor music, preferably no longer than a minute -- there are only so many epically long routines for non-dancers that my imagination can conjure!

Baby likes to rock it

This weekend my five-year-old niece visited from North Carolina. "Alexis has been waiting for you," my mom announced when I entered the kitchen. "She has big news."

"I'm starting gymnastics," Alexis said proudly. Then she raised her arms, reached back into a back bend, and kicked over with both feet.

I wonder if I can legally steal her for my team.

Ye of Little Faith

After the Natalie situation yesterday, Kelsey said she'd found floor music online and her mother had purchased it. It's from one of those sites that re-orchestrates music and cuts it to routine length. The problem is that often the music sounds cheesey: digitized and stripped down.

I worried.

But today I listened to a demo of the piece and then found a full version on YouTube. And what do you know? It's great!

Los molinos

As I have a private today with one of the young Level 4's, I'm researching beforehand:

Calling all maestros

Today I headed off Potential Floor Disaster 2010/11. On Monday, Natalie brought in floor music that was, well, not really music. It was more like beats with some semblance of a melody. Kind of what you'd hear at a club, but not as cool.

I tried but the creation process was labored, the dance skills having nothing to do with each other, and when I woke up at 8 this morning, I immediately kneeled on the floor to revise a section I'd pondered last night. Better, but still not right.

Luckily my boss saved me. "What do you think of Natalie's music?" she asked this morning.

"I'm not a fan."

"Yeah, it sucks," she said. "Her mom hates it, too. Let's change it."

Out of all the Level 5's and 6's, Natalie deserves a good IGC season after a disastrous first year of Level 6. But I don't want to hurt her feelings.

"Do you love this floor music?" I asked her after warm-ups.

"I like it," she said, and I think she already knew what was up.

Good. "You're a really good dancer and I think we should look for a piece that shows that off more."

"Okay." She shrugged cheerfully.

At least I wasn't lying. Natalie's tall and flexible, and when she actually straightens her legs, her leaps and kicks are dynamite. You won't find those at the club.

After running through a few ideas, I remembered Bond. My boss searched iTunes and liked what she heard, Natalie agreed, and so did her mom.

Thank you, fiddling women!

Now I call upon Friends, Coaches, Music Enthusiasts: Any suggestions for floor music? I've compiled a small collection to bring on Monday and while the girls are supposedly looking for music on their own, I like to be prepared. (Emeline, I'm looking at you.)

Rock on, tiny dancers!

Sebastian

In the corner of the gym rests a long, rounded stick. Duct tape circles in increments. A tuft of orange yarn on top. Meet Sebastian.

Sebastian came along in response to the alarming lack of shoulder flexibility in some of the girls. His purpose is simple: grasp the stick with both hands, raise it above your head and pull it behind you with straight arms, then roll it back over. Your hands hold on the duct tape markers. The closer the markers, the more flexibility demanded of your shoulders.

My boss came up with the idea of naming the stick. She thought it might entice the girls to want to use it. One practice, they scribbled their name suggestions and Greg read out loud the options. The most popular names were placed in a hat and the winner drawn at random. Sebastian won. That was my name. You can see I'm making good use of my writing degree.

Next, Sebastian was to be sent home for a week at a time with the girls deemed most dire. I believe this is when my boss added the orange yarn as hair, because the girls complained loudly. Laurel ended up taking him home, and then maybe Amy, and then at some point he was passed to a Level 3 and went underground for a while.

Now he hangs out behind the freezer. He looks forlorn. So I took him out the other day and instructed the girls to use him as one of their stations. Every little bit helps, right? And they did use him. For a bit. Then I looked up from watching front handsprings and saw one of the girls swinging him around as a sword. He can't catch a break.

Upstate Girls

This weekend I had the pleasure of meeting up with two of my finest ladies. One of them, the incomparable Emeline, was my teammate in college. We were injured together (to the point where she dislocated her elbow the day I got knee surgery - is that destiny or what?), rehabbed together, ate peanut butter puddles together, and, senior year, finally competed together.

Before we took on the town, we started talking gymnastics. This led to: stretching ideas from Emeline that I'll attempt to implement on my inflexible lasses; floor routine demonstrations on our friend's carpet; and, inevitably, rolling around the floor in splits and "dramatic ending poses" that had our friend looking weirdly at us.

Emeline has found a practical outlet for her years of training. Besides coaching, she breaks hearts every weekend on the salsa dance floor. Me, well, I keep it tamer in zumba class. My forty-year-old classmates haven't fallen prey to my grapevines. But that's the thing with Em and me (Em Squared?). We're not competing these days, but we keep moving.

Not with a bang but a whimper

I would love for the Level 5's to finish their season just as gloriously.

They don't.

Kips still missed. Falls off beam. Errant vaults. Floor routines off the music. Coach P. claps supportively after their routines. I know he's not impressed.

Our last gymnast, Amy, salutes for beam. During the warm-up for bars, she lost a tooth. In the beam touch warm-up, she crashed on a jump and had a subsequent teary meltdown. She's fallen off beam every meet, always more than once. Lots of 6.0's.

But Amy's improved this season. She points her toes, flicks her wrists on floor, almost has her left leg split down. Her leaps hit a full split. She wants to be a real gymnast.

Today she wobbles wildly, but saves herself. She lands her cartwheel and I clap in delight. Just the dismount left -- and she makes it!

8.15. I high-five her. She grins with one tooth missing.

Spring Awakening

The prospect of USAIGC sends the older girls a-flutter. Now they're making up beam routines and saying, "That's going to be my floor music" to every song on the radio. This new excitement means there's a better chance they'll stay in the sport, especially for the girls like Maya and Kathryn who have started to drift.

But we still have a season to finish out.

One March weekend, I drive an hour to arrive at the competition gym. 7:45 a.m. isn't a particularly kind time for a gymnastics meet. The older Level 4's--Christina and Alejandra are our representatives today--slump in with messy hair, looking like they just woke up from sleeping in the car. Compared to the hairsprayed ponytails and crisp buns of other teams, Christina rocks a sloppy side ponytail. Alejandra arrives late and sneaks in during the national anthem. Not a good start.

Floor first. Nobody does a great routine but Christina scores an 8.95 and Alejandra a 9.0. All right, we'll take that.

Somehow it gets better from there. By the end of the meet, Christina's pulled a 35.75 all-around. Alejandra, 35.05 despite an 8.0 on bars. She beats just about everyone on beam. I feel like a pride mama. Thus I text my mom, who has sat through countless competitions and understands what these scores mean. Success, solid scores -- these things are finally possible.

Realism and new life

And as a staff, we all face it: most of these girls are not taking gymnastics anywhere. Some could, but they don't want to. The Level 5's are much better this season but in no way are they ready for Level 6 bars. The Level 4's are kickin' it but they too are foiled when it comes to kips.

They're bored. I'm bored. We're all bored.

The solution? USAIGC.

Under the USAIGC system,

• There are no compulsory routines. While gymnasts must fulfill certain requirements, all of the choreography is optional;
• Gymnasts can specialize on events;
• The levels range from Copper, equivalent to about Level 3, and run through Platinum, similar to Level 10/beyond;
• Gymnasts can compete at two adjacent levels (i.e. bars and beam at the Bronze level, and floor and vault at silver);
• Every level leads to a national championship;
• Gymnasts can compete under the USAG J.O. (a.k.a. Levels 4, 5, etc.) and USAIGC systems simultaneously.

Thank God.

Keeping It Staffy

I like that I like Coach P., because the gym would be misery if I didn't.

I can honestly say that I love going to the gym. Even if my girls drive me mad. Even if practice is at 8 am and I went to bed at 3. Why?

1. It's gymnastics.
2. I love the girls.
3. I love my fellow coaches.

At fourteen, I began teaching at the gym I competed for. I'm not certain how legal this was, but I did obtain a special blue card from the nurse's office. Many of my teammates did the same. A few hated coaching and switched to jobs in retail and restaurants. Others stayed on. Often we worked side by side with our own coaches, glimpsing what it might be like for them when they coached us.

As a result, the staff became extremely close. We spent hours lounging around the gym or hanging out in the parking lot after classes and practice. Many a table filled with our breathren for half-priced appetizers.

Sure, drama ensued. About half the staff dated each other. Love triangles, break-ups, friendships tested when some coaches left for other gyms. But when we hit our stride, the chemistry was undeniable. The kids, the parents, everyone felt it.

We're not so inseperable at my present gym but we still enjoy each other. We're a little older, aware that we're focused on multiple life paths outside of the gym. We have our own lives, though John and Meghan and I often frolic in the gym after practice. And as the number one guardian against drama, nobody is dating anyone else.

To the test

February 14th. Valentine's Day for many, the world's longest day for us.

This date marks Coach P.'s debut on the competition floor. The parents are whispering. Their hopes are high or at least curious. Greg hasn't said much, but the few words confirm my thoughts: If the girls succeed today, have he and I failed as coaches?

Floor begins well, with Jamie and Kelsey performing crisp, 9.0-earning routines. Vault goes nicely. Bars...ah, well. Bars goes back to its old ways, meaning the stronger girls miss their high bar kips and the weaker ones take their 5.0's. Alejandra makes us proud with a tidy, sassy beam set that wins her first place.

Coach P. and I linger for an hour, waiting for the start of the next session. Maya's the only 6 competing today and she shows up a half hour into warm-ups. The good news is that by this point, Coach P. and I have bonded. He learns that I studied writing and asks if I can help him with his English. We talk about Russia. His accent is strong but he catches irony and sarcasm. I like this.

The bad news is that we've been in the same gym since 8 am, and it's now 6 pm and Maya sobs after bombing beam, her final event. Clearly worth the wait.

I'm not sure how to feel. Sure, I can't help but be glad that our girls did nothing out of the ordinary. Some victories, plenty of falls. But I've begun to think I can trust Coach P. I want to see his magic.

Squat-ons got you down?

Found this on Gymnastics Coaching:

Showmance

Emeline: "Tomorrow is dance day with ballet bar (aka folding chairs)"
Emeline: "and we will be using Glee music"

...Pretty sure it's time to think about a gym change.

Follow me or perish, sweater monkeys

Please don't think I'm a sadist. I'm not the type of person to thrive on children crying. Rather, it's the epiphany in the girls that pleases me: the moment of, "Oh, gymnastics is difficult and I have to work hard now? I had no idea!"

The spell is brief.

The parental complaints begin to wear on my boss. Eventually she asks Coach P. not to push the girls in their splits. Coach P. rolls his eyes -- how do the parents expect their children to do well in competition with being babied at practice? But he understands that this too is a business.

The little ones, Generation 4.0, take to Coach P. the best. Besides Larissa, they are unintimidated. More of the parents are on board. They do what he asks.

But the older girls, the ones whose competitive woes brought Coach P. here in the first place, soon revert back to their ways. Giggling, sitting around, complaining.

I wonder how Maya will react to Coach P. Here she has the opportunity to learn from an elite-level coach. To get stronger on bars and to add to her already powerful tumbling and vault repertoire. I wonder if she'll be subdued, listen to him the way she doesn't listen to the rest of us.

And she is and does. For about three days.

"She is really annoying," Coach P. soon says.

Maya just doesn't care. And she doesn't care if she distracts her teammates in her apathy.

The culmination took place at a practice that, sadly, I was not at. Apparently Maya was more of a piece of work than usual. Coach P. let it go. At the end, as the girls stood before him, he started to give an inspirational talk about hard work. Maya began interrupting, talking over him, moving around.

Coach P. threw his clipboard to the ground. He told Maya that she wasn't a very good gymnast and that he didn't want her on the team. I don't know if the girls were frightened by the clipboard or his words or both, but evidently they all walked out of the gym with pale faces, some in tears.

The only parent who wasn't distressed to hear this from her daughter? Maya's mom. "Good," she said to my boss. "Someone's got to put her in line."

Tears for fears

I watch Coach P. carefully those first weeks. In the beginning he works mostly with the older girls. The girls simultaneously become my biggest fans. "Are we going to beam with you or Coach P.?" they ask. "With you, right? Please?"

Coach P. operates quietly. "May I step in?" he says instead of talking over us other coaches. He has drills for the girls, some of which we've used and some that are new. He's all about repetition. Routines, routines, routines. More routines. Very reasonable.

It's in the warm-ups that Coach P. earns his reputation.

Kasey sits in her split. The girls chatter as usual. Then Coach P. approaches and pushes her the extra half-inch to the ground.

I don't expect Kasey to flinch. She's tough. More flexible than the other Level 5's.

Instead she starts crying.

In those first weeks, at least one girl cries per practice. Larissa refuses to enter the gym for warm-ups, sitting in the lobby with six-year-old stubborness. If they don't cry during splits, one will during conditioning. The strength training is not revolutionary, but like the routines, there's a lot. Many a squat-jump ensues. Alejandra has breathless, dramatic episodes. Parents call complaining that their children can't walk the next day. Coach P. tries a fun leap frog-type game, but Chloe falls over Amy and hurts her hand, and the tears continue.

As for John, Greg, and me? We can't help but love it.

And the heat goes on

"Coach P., are you okay?" Holly calls.

His response is inaudible.

"Well, you're sitting with your head in your hands..."

So it goes 'round here.

Like seven inches from the midday sun

In my day we'd start practice at 7 pm in hopes of outlasting the summer heat. The gym always felt ten degrees hotter than outside and though the tremendous industrial fans made much banging and booming, they were only effective when you stood in front of them, calling words into the metal and letting the air distort them.

We sweated. Everything sweated. The plastic beam covers dripped. Better put on all the chalk you can before bars. Floor, that was okay, but we were so overheated that it was difficult to find the will to live, let alone tumble. But if there was one thought that kept everyone trucking, it was the possibility of a post-practice water fight in the parking lot. The owner kept a bucket load of water pistols for this purpose.

More often than not, my teammates scampered outside and I stayed in for a few extra minutes. One more back handspring on beam. Okay, two more. And then I stepped outside and went from ninety-nine degrees to frigid in an instant. Yes, that was something to keep pushing for.

After a long weekend and existential crisis,

I return!

A real entry will occur tomorrow during the heat wave, when going outside will equal instant collapse.

..

Dear Emeline,

I hope your gym can handle my ridiculousness. ;-)

Double Dutch

As a complete aside, I received an exciting e-mail today. Should the stars line up properly, I'll be in Rotterdam as a volunteer for the World Championships in October. Whoa!

Stranger Comes to Town

He arrives in January. A mild man, dressed simply, voice never raised. He claps once for their attention. Instead of sitting on the floor for their stretches, he takes them through kicks and jumps, then jumping kicks, all of which make them laugh. They are paying attention.

He is Coach Petrovitch of the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

As a gymnast, I looked upon new coaches with fear and curiosity. Would they like my gymnastics? What would they try to fix in me? Would they yell? These new coaches were almost unanimously male. Each brought his own trademark. It was a matter of how well his style blended or rose above the present coaching environment. Non-offensive or innovative coaches persisted; those who fell below phased out.

As a coach, I wonder: Am I going to be ousted?

My boss hasn't given any sign that she's displeased. But I know she's tired of parental complaints when the girls do poorly in competition. John and Greg have been at the gym for years, and if anyone's going to get the boot, it's this girl.

Coach P. has extensive international competition and coaching experience. One of his roles will be to mentor us, my boss explains. I like the idea of mentorship and learning. But I'm still concerned.

As January thickens, I hold my breath.

Great success

(or, as Dom might say, delusions of grandeur?)

How do you take your gymnasts' success?

Though much of this blog details the less than glorious times, once in a while my ladies win. Kelsey and Brittany form the second place-third place punch in their age group. Alejandra wins beam. Maya places in the top three on vault. Christina, Laurel, and Grace sneak onto the podium in their Level 4 glory. Jamie places even on her bad days.

"It's all because of your coaching!" my mom says.

Thanks, Ma!

But I credit my own gymnastics successes to a team of coaches: Doug, who spotted me for back handsprings on beam even as my teammates packed up to go home and the owner shut off the lights; Jody, who had the gift of making the least graceful gymnasts look lovely; Andre, who taught front tumbling and mental empowerment; Matt, who said, "Why not?" whenever I asked him to spot me for random skills like front handspring step-out beam mounts; my first coaches, who drilled in the strength and flexibility that follow me still.

Yet who's up on that beam when the judges are watching? The one sweating, controlling anxiety, fighting to stay on? The gymnast.

So of course I'd love to pat myself on the back when one of the ladies runs up to the podium. But I must also salute Greg for his nitpicking analysis of her routine, John for his patience in helping her push past fear, and above all of us, the lady herself.