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.