While going through one of the boxes I found my old gymnastics journal that I had toward the end of my gym career. The journal was something my coaches gave us to document our workouts. We had to say what we learned on each event, what we wanted to improve on and rank our attitude, etc. At the beginning of each workout we had to turn in the previous workout's journal entry for our coaches to review and sign off on. It was like gymnastics homework if that makes sense.
While reading through this little thing, I got SUPER emotional. I was shocked to see that I mentioned some sort of nagging pain or injury during EVERY workout. I mean, I did gymnastics for 14 years! Half of my life. I remember the big injuries like breaking bones and the surgeries I had on both elbows to remove the bone/cartilage pieces. But I forgot about all the physical therapy I had to do for my knees, all the doctors visits for my wrists, chiropractor visits for my back, acupuncture for my hips and the annoyance of having my shoulder pop out of socket all the time.
If you aren't in the gymnast world then you probably don't know that most gymnasts quit by the time they reach 7th grade. Puberty changes your center of balance and you have to kind of reconfigure how you do skills due to muscle changes. That paired with more school activities/curiosity means that most girls quit.
By the time I was 16, I had reached a burnout stage. I was the oldest in the gym and the highest level. Being the oldest and most advanced meant that I was pretty much the team captain. I started getting yelled at for my younger teammates misbehaving or cheating during their conditioning. I was at fault because if they were cheating, then I must not have been providing a good example. It was frustrating to be constantly in trouble because a girl 8 years younger than me wasn't doing her assigned number of pull-ups.
I was hurt and tired but I felt I owed it to myself to see it through college if my body could hold out. Also, I was bored. I discussed doing JV Cheer with my gym coaches which would mean I would miss about 8 workouts for the year. We discussed scheduling private workouts on Saturdays to make up for those 8 days if needed. They agreed to let me do cheer as long as I kept it "under wraps."
My coaches were like my parents. I spent at least 20 hours a week with them, traveled with them, was at the hospital with them when they had their daughter, even discussed puberty with them. They were my parents. They were my heroes. And they let me down. I didn't know who I was. I was a gymnast. That was my life. My identity. And it was gone due to one parent complaint by a younger teammate who wanted to take violin. I understand their predicament but then I thought it was Ridiculous.
My senior year in college, I went back to the gym to visit my coaches. My male coach took me to the back and started crying. I stood there in shock as he apologized for everything. For handling things the way they did and for taking everything away from me for a ridiculous reason. He admitted that they constantly regret the way things happened. He asked for my forgiveness and I cried.
I have a lot of amazing memories, stories of triumphs, friendships, etc. from Gymnastics. But when I read that journal, the devastation and frustration is what poured over me. I am so very lucky to have had such a great opportunity and I am thankful that it shaped me into who I am today. Shaped my beliefs, my identity, my spirit.
My coaches are amazing people and honestly the best pseudo-parents I could have ever hoped for! They are caring in ways many gymnastics coaches are not. I was honored to see them for 20 minutes when they were driving through Utah with their daughter. I miss them and love them. Overall, I am thankful for them and the way they have shaped who I am today.
