Winning Balance

by Nancy French

  The convention was held in Denver, right after the Olympics concluded. Once backstage, I met Vice President Al Gore, Stevie Wonder, will.i.am, Sheryl Crow, and many other people.

  Then it was my turn to take the stage. Of course, leading the Pledge of Allegiance is a little different than performing on the beam. What if I froze? What if I forgot the words? Thankfully, they provided a teleprompter for me, which took away my anxiety a bit. I walked out on the stage on that perfectly sunny day and led the crowd in our pledge. I was so proud to be an Olympian, and even prouder to be an American.

  “One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,” I finished.

  The crowd roared.

  Lesson I’ve Learned

  Don’t ever forget where you came from. Appreciate the people who’ve helped make you who you are.

  Chapter 20

  The Best of Both Worlds

  Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

  —Alfred Souza

  “YOU LOOKED GREAT on Letterman. We miss you!”

  In the weeks following the Olympics, I received texts like these from my high school friends, many of whom hadn’t seen me since the previous school year. Even after I was back in the States, I had a number of commitments to keep, so I was busy jetting from one place to another. I looked forward to hanging out with my friends again, but for a while their only chances to see me were my TV appearances with Letterman, Oprah, Ellen DeGeneres, and Leno.

  Though I didn’t feel close to many girls during elementary school, I’d developed a core group of friends in high school. The nine of us had grown up together in West Des Moines, and I appreciated how supportive they were. I’ve always been quieter than everyone else, probably because of my focus on gymnastics. But my friends didn’t mind.

  They didn’t treat me like I was “Shawn Johnson, the Olympian.” They’d known me since I was teased on the playground because “Shawn Johnson” was a boy’s name. So they understood where I’d come from and appreciated where I’d ended up. They were so much fun, and when I was with them, they gave me a sense of freedom I never had when I was training.

  While I always loved hearing from my friends, I also began receiving texts from kids who never would have considered me their friend before: “When are you coming back? We can’t wait to see you again.” Suddenly, I’d become very popular!

  As much as I wanted to get back into the routine of high school, it would have to wait. The 2008 US men’s and women’s gymnastics teams, along with former Olympic medalists like Shannon Miller, reunited in early September in Reno, Nevada. We were there to kick off the Tour of Gymnastics Superstars, which sounded so cool . . . like we were some sort of rock band traveling to appease our rabid fan base!

  The two-month trek across the nation gave us a chance to see the Americans who’d been rooting for us to bring home the gold from Beijing. After spending so much time explaining what it was like to be an Olympic athlete, I was thrilled to be with the only group of people who truly understood that experience.

  My parents were a little less enthusiastic. I think they had been looking forward to me staying home. We had all just lived through the most intense year of our lives—one that kept us busy and too often separated from one another. Between long hours of training in the gym, making travel arrangements, and taping endorsements, we’d experienced lots of stress and hardly any time together.

  When they discovered that Tori could accompany me, however, they felt better about letting me go. Once all the performers arrived in Reno, we immediately began learning and rehearsing an entirely new production before going on a thirty-seven-city bus tour across America. We weren’t burdened by the pressure and competitiveness of the Olympics, so we got to have more fun. On my floor routine, for example, I ran out with my arms raised, and two people slipped silks around my arms. Then, like Peter Pan, I was lifted up off the ground to do aerial tricks. It was exhilarating!

  We traveled all over the country. Our stop in San Diego included a Frosted Pink with a Twist TV special. I’d done charity work for years with this organization, which focuses on educating people about cancers that primarily affect women. We performed as they taped a live show, hosted by Olympians Shannon Miller and Scott Hamilton. But the show included more than gymnastics; amazing singers like Natasha Bedingfield, Jesse McCartney, Kenny Loggins, and Carole King entertained through their music in one big, star-studded event. Working on Frosted Pink with a Twist was especially rewarding because my paternal grandmother is a cancer survivor.

  For the entire tour, different musical guests appeared on stage with us, including actor Mitchel Musso, who played Oliver in the TV series Hannah Montana. I enjoyed getting to know him because my life always felt a little divided, like Miley’s on Hannah Montana. I felt like there was a glamorous Shawn on TV and in print ads, but the real Shawn was just a regular girl from West Des Moines.

  The tour was fun, but it wasn’t as glitzy as one might think. We lived like gypsies on a gigantic tour bus without a shower. We performed several nights a week. Afterward, we’d run through the drive-through at McDonald’s. For the first time in recent memory, I was able to eat whatever I wanted, which felt decadent and liberating.

  After we ate, we’d laugh and joke around on the bus, eventually falling asleep as mile after mile of America passed by on the other side of the windows. Around four o’clock in the morning, we’d roll into a new city. We’d have to wake up, get our luggage from underneath the bus, check into a hotel, and sleep there until around ten o’clock. Then we’d start all over again—one show after another, seeing the entire country one town at a time. We even performed in Des Moines at the Wells Fargo Arena.

  Tori and I were together nonstop for three months. We saw each other at our best and our worst, and we probably fought more than we ever had before. Having said that, Tori has always been like a sister to me, and I was so grateful that she came with me.

  Tori’s nineteenth birthday fell during our tour, and I wanted to surprise her. Even though we were in a strange city, I was able to arrange to have a decorated cake delivered to our hotel. I gathered everyone into our room while Tori was in another part of the building. Then I called her, asking her to come back to the room right away because someone had gotten hurt. She rushed in, only to find me holding a large, candle-topped cake as our friends sang “Happy Birthday.”

  Another highlight of the tour came the evening that the Make-a-Wish Foundation connected me with Sidney, a little girl battling leukemia who had asked to meet me. Like me, she was a gymnast. When the tour came to her city, not only did I spend time with her and her family before our performance, I also arranged for Sidney to do her own floor routine during halftime. A live band provided the music, and the crowd gave her an enthusiastic response. I’ll never forget that night, and I hope she won’t either.

  The tour wrapped up right before Thanksgiving. After Tori and I said good-bye to our new friends, we went back home for the holidays. It had been one of the most purely fun times of my life, but I looked forward to getting home and living a more quiet and less dramatic life. I planned on enjoying Thanksgiving and Christmas with my parents and my pets. Then in January, I would go back to Valley to complete my high school career.

  That was the plan, anyway . . . and then Dancing with the Stars called.

  Part 3

  Dancing through Life

  Walking out . . . minutes left.

  My heart is racing. . . .

  His eyes locked on mine

  with a sense of serenity.

  Our fingers intertwine.

  Butterflies flutter.

  Stars race around.

  With a loud applause

  we take our ground.

  Cameras, lights,

  breath held high.

  He pulls me close;

  I close my eyes.

  One last moment

  with so much to say . . .

  Thank you.

  I’m sorry.

/>   Will it all be okay?

  You just need to let go.

  Dance to the moon.

  Feel the clouds.

  Sing a tune.

  Take a risk.

  Make that leap

  you’ll never regret but

  want to keep.

  Every new second

  you grow inside:

  healing, repairing,

  fears aside.

  I thank you for everything

  you’ve given to me,

  things to cherish

  for eternity.

  You spin me out,

  hand in hand.

  Smiling at me,

  you understand.

  All I can hope

  is I’ve made you proud.

  With the melody going,

  we dance to a crowd.

  Chapter 21

  Hollywood, Here I Come!

  Dance as though no one is watching you.

  Love as though you have never been hurt before.

  Sing as though no one can hear you.

  Live as though heaven is on earth.

  —Alfred Souza

  LATE ONE AFTERNOON shortly after I’d returned home from tour, I was driving through West Des Moines. This looks different, I thought. Then it dawned on me: I’d never seen my town at 4 p.m. on a weekday.

  I was beginning to experience life as I’d never experienced it before. Did I want to spend the afternoon shopping? I could, because I wasn’t busy on the bars in the gym. Did I need to run to the store at midnight? No problem, because I no longer had to get up early to train. Did I want to eat that burger? Definitely, because I didn’t have to keep such a tight rein on my weight.

  I could get used to this new sense of freedom!

  After a couple of weeks untethered to the gym or a coach, I realized how much I loved normal life. Yet I realized that my schedule could soon change once again. That’s because I was waiting to see if I would be formally invited to appear on Dancing with the Stars. While I was still on tour, Sheryl had called to talk with me about that possibility. When I first heard that the producers might be interested in me, I thought, A completely new challenge? A chance to push my body in a whole new way? I was always up for that. There was just one little problem.

  “Dancing with the Stars?” I said into my phone. “But I can’t dance.”

  “You don’t have to know before you’re a contestant. That’s the whole point,” my agent assured me. “In fact, the producers have invited you to go out to Los Angeles to see the show that’s currently taping. You can see how this season works. If it seems fun, you can be on season eight in a couple of months.”

  “You know this will mean that you won’t be able to go back to school in January,” Mom reminded me. My mom and dad had tried so hard to keep my life in the category of “normal.” We’d always said that I’d never miss the high school experience, no matter what. The Olympics were an obvious exception. Now that the Games were over, it was time to return to school—to backpacks, homework, football games, and pep rallies. But as much as I loved Valley High, this was an amazing opportunity.

  “Well, we can at least go out there and see what it’s like,” I said to my mom. “If you don’t like the look of it, I don’t have to do it.”

  So during a break in the tour in early November, Sheryl and I visited the set of Dancing with the Stars, season seven. We got to watch the taping of the show, meet the producers, and see all of the behind-the-scenes action. It was dazzling! All of the beautiful costumes, the cameras, the elegant dances . . . it was like a fairy tale.

  “What do you think? Do you want to come?” one of the producers asked me after the show.

  “I’d love to do it,” I said.

  Despite interest on both our parts, some details still needed to be worked out. Specifically, because I was seventeen, a minor and the youngest person ever to be considered for a spot on the show, my DWTS contract had to be reviewed by a Los Angeles County judge.

  I was sitting in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport about a month later, waiting for a flight back to Des Moines, when my phone rang. It was Sheryl.

  “So . . . I guess you’d better buy some dancing shoes!” she said. She told me DWTS had just extended an invitation for me to appear on the show after the judge had approved my contract. The one condition: a chaperone would have to accompany me to every rehearsal.

  My mom agreed to come with me to Hollywood and serve as my chaperone. Her boss suggested she take a leave of absence, but my mom, not wanting to take advantage of her company, left her job. By February, we were in Los Angeles preparing for the upcoming season.

  Dancing with the Stars pairs professional dancers with celebrity cast members. Many of the dancers return season after season, while the celebrities rotate in and out. This is what keeps the show fresh and exciting. During season eight, the celebrities included professional athletes, reality TV stars, musicians, and actors. During the first few days, we got to know one another. Many members of the cast told me they’d seen me in the Olympics, and I knew many of them through their work as well. Almost all of us expressed concern about our ability to dance and perform in front of America. Even though we came from very different backgrounds, we got along well right from the start.

  I got to be great friends with some of the other contestants, like Lil’ Kim and Steve-O. My absolute favorite was Chuck Wicks, a country singer who was competing along with his girlfriend, Julianne Hough. While she was a professional dancer, actress, and DWTS alum, Chuck was just a regular guy who grew up on a farm. I identified with him because he was a down-to-earth person like me amid all the glamour and sparkle of Hollywood.

  Each of the “celebrities” (though I’ve never considered myself one) was assigned a professional dancer based on various factors, including height, age, and personality. Mark Ballas was my partner, and I was so thankful for the pairing. He is an accomplished ballroom dancer and musician who had won season six of DWTS with Olympic figure skater Kristi Yamaguchi.

  Once we were paired up, Mark showed amazing patience in spite of how little I knew. I was the type of girl who stood against the wall during high school dances because I didn’t want my classmates to see me dancing. Mark explained the moves to me in the most competent and professional manner.

  Having said that, he was also very playful and silly—which made backstage life at DWTS unpredictable. He was twenty-two years old and I was seventeen, but he sometimes acted like he was the younger one. In the weeks leading up to the show, I began to see this more clearly. For example, once I walked into the studio and found him asleep on the floor.

  “Um . . . what are you doing?” I asked. I was used to starting practice early and ending late.

  He barely even acknowledged me. “I have to take a nap, babe.”

  “I just got here!” I protested. “What’s your problem?”

  He didn’t move.

  “Let’s work!” I said, realizing that I really needed the practice. The first week’s dance was the waltz, a moderately fast dance in which we had to elegantly glide in circles, taking one step for each beat. Every move was carefully choreographed, so I needed to get into the studio.

  Who am I kidding? I’m always serious about practice. While the other contestants complained about the hours of rehearsal each day, it was a vacation compared to Olympic-level training, when I had to put in hours of work before lunch and then return to the gym and do it all again after lunch.

  I nudged Mark with my foot to see if he’d wake up, but it was no use. He was determined to take that nap!

  Still, I was in good hands. He taught me everything I needed to know about each dance, pushing me further than I thought I could go. He also had a great way of calming me down. Sometimes, he’d just softly encourage me. Other times, he’d get out his guitar and play me a song. I was thankful to have a partner like Mark. I knew I’d have fun, even if I didn’t bring home the mirror ball trophy.

  And by the way, the first time I saw
the mirror ball, I couldn’t believe it. The highly coveted prize is something anyone could make for five dollars with a glue gun, a Styrofoam ball, tiny mirrored tiles, and a little ingenuity. Nevertheless, I wanted it more than anything.

  Every week, Mark and I competed against other couples by dancing for three judges: Len Goodman, Bruno Tonioli, and Carrie Ann Inaba. After watching us dance, they each scored us on a ten-point scale. In addition, the at-home viewing audience would vote. As long as we didn’t receive the lowest combined total of judges’ points and audience votes, we’d get to stay on the show for another week.

  We practiced hard to prepare for the first day of the show, but I was absolutely terrified when that day finally arrived.

  Even though I’d competed on a worldwide stage, with cameras following my every move, I never felt more anxious than that morning when I woke up and headed to the ABC studio around ten o’clock. My assistant, Tracey—yes, I had an assistant—greeted Mark and me and then ushered us into all of the preshow preparations. Tracey called me Peanut, a term of endearment that I loved.

  First, she took us to our trailers. Mine was Trailer 22, and Mark’s was 17. We joked that we should switch so our trailer numbers would match our ages. I couldn’t believe I had a trailer, and I wondered what celebrities had used it over the years. Mine had a couch, a bathroom, a vanity, and a microwave. Plus, it was full of beautiful flowers that people had sent to me . . . including one lovely bunch from Mitchel Musso, my new friend from the Tour of Gymnastics Superstars. Mitchel even stopped by the studio one day to wish me luck.

  After Tracey showed me my trailer, Mark and I did a quick run-through onstage. This is how the cameramen determine where the cameras should be during the dance and how the viewing audience will see every important foot move. They know exactly what’s coming before the show goes live.