Oh, to run full-speed at inanimate objects

At the regular practices, John and Greg took the girls to the "manly" events of uneven bars and vault, while I coached balance beam and floor.

John's one of the most patient coaches I've ever met. I've never heard him raise his voice. There's no hint of exasperation when he explains a correction to the same gymnast for the hundredth time. Once in awhile, I get a text from him at, say, 11 p.m. that reads, "I figured out what Kelsey's doing wrong in her kip." Such an even-keel can lead to the girls running wild, knowing he most likely won't punish them. But it's perfect for the girls like the injury-prone Brittany, who easily becomes frustrated and afraid.

Greg has done an excellent job of preparing the Level 4's, including on beam and floor, where he often demonstrates with his 6'3" frame. Like me, he's only patient up to a point. He also has the wonderful fortune of making some of the female judges blush. One day, this will work to our advantage.

But on the extra days, with John and Greg busy with the class kids, it was a little bit of me everywhere.

I'm not a huge fan of spotting front handsprings on vault. A little shove for Kelsey when she needs more power or Brittany when she's being a headcase--no problem. It was Tia.

I'd drop the vault table a few notches. I'd stand on mats next to the table to make me taller. And every time Tia started running toward me, I held my breath.

Tia plays lacrosse and she's quite good at any running exercise. She's also skilled when it comes to naming songs on the radio, quick to let us know her commentary and all the lyrics. None of the above helped with her front handspring. She sprinted, she hit the springboard, and nothing happened.

I heaved her body into the air. Her hands slowly rolled off the table, and her feet landed on the mats. Sometimes.

"I do it better with John!" she complained.

Yes, because John can do the whole vault for you. Though I really wished he wasn't in the middle of teaching five-year-olds to do forward rolls on the floor. "I'm trying to let you do more of it on your own," I said. Wishful thinking.

Alas, one day I really did attempt to let Tia try more of the vault on her own. Her hands touched the table, her feet arched over her head, she flipped over, hit her back on the end of the table, and rolled to the ground.

"DOES SHE NEED ICE?" yelled Kathryn. In a flash, she returned with an ice pack in hand. Tia placed it on her back, fighting tears.

Good job, Coach.