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.