Finding Our Balance

by Lauren Hopkins

  A few minutes pass before a bored-looking journalist in a Padres hat approaches me. “How did your training go, Amelia?” he asks. I sigh. This one doesn’t even get my name right. Such a letdown after that last interview, which was actually fun. I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and throw out a stock answer, all the while watching the clock and counting down the minutes I can get back to what actually matters.

  ***

  “Get back up and do it until you can get it right.”

  I brush my hair out of my eyes. In the midst of my six falls on bars in this morning’s training session, my bun has completely unwound itself and my bangs are everywhere.

  It’s my freaking van Leeuwen again. When I propel up from the low bar to catch the high, my hands are either not close enough or they extend over and I bang my wrists instead. The more I miss, the more frustrated I get, and the more frustrated I get, the harder it is to focus. At this point I’m basically hurling myself into the bar without even trying to catch because I know I won’t.

  “Just move on to the next skill,” Polina yells from the floor next to the podium. I guess she didn’t hear Natasha tell me to do it again. Or she feels bad and wants to save me the embarrassment and pain.

  “No, you need to get back on. I need you to catch it at least once before we leave here. It’s the last practice and if your last memory of this skill is the inability to do it, you up the risk of not being able to do it in competition.”

  “It’s just a bad day,” Polina says. “She’s been catching it all week. She should move on and then do it in the warm-ups before the meet tomorrow. If we push her, it’ll get her more frustrated and the rest of her day will be a mess.”

  Natasha glares at me. The two rarely disagree but when they do, they’re always able to back up their reasoning…though it’s Natasha who usually ends up getting her way.

  “I can do it,” I say, pushing myself up off the ground. I mount the low bar, do a couple of toe-ons to get in the swing of things – literally – and then pretend I’m doing the Maloney instead. I’ve been catching the Maloney all day, and it’s the same exact skill, minus the half twist.

  When I’m ready, I release and reach up to catch the bar, and then do the twist at the last possible instant. I feel my grips wrap around the bar and I’m definitely a little too close when I catch, which makes me kind of dead hang for a second and I have to muscle the kip cast. But I caught it, which is what Natasha wanted, and then continue the routine with no problems and stick my double front like a final “eff you” to the apparatus that is killing my soul.

  “See?” Natasha grins. “That was fugly as hell but you’ll go into the meet tomorrow with the memory of catching. Clear your brain of the falls.”

  I nod, and painfully walk back to the chalk bowl. I can see my knees bruising practically before my eyes from all of those eight-foot drops.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Emerson hisses. “Just go on autopilot. You’re like, going over the physics of the skill in your head when it’s your muscle memory you need to rely on.”

  “As if clearing your head is an easy fix,” I snap back. “I’m not the Dalai Lama.”

  I still have one more turn on this event, our last of the day. We start on bars tomorrow, so I’ll be happy to just get it out of the way. Otherwise I had no problems this afternoon, though we did decide to downgrade my floor a little bit so I don’t freak out about connecting elements, which is always a pain in the ass on a podium, which gives the floor springs a little extra bounce.

  My last turn ends up being fine. I use the same cheat on my van Leeuwen, twisting super late and catching close but catching being the key word. Ruby also struggled on bars today, not so much with falling on skills, but she did look messier than usual, so at least I’m not alone.

  When all is said and done, we walk tensely to the chairs where our stuff is parked. “I’m almost happy,” Natasha starts. “Obviously, not everything went our way today, but as they say in the theater, a bad dress rehearsal means a good opening night. Use the car ride to the hotel to think about training and what you need to do tomorrow. Visualize your routines, and then just breathe. Close your eyes. Relax.”

  The three of us are in various states of disarray, exhausted from training, as we trudge to the van. Emerson claims the back seat for herself, probably so she can text or scroll Instagram instead of listening to Natasha.

  When I sit down, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. I try to focus on my van Leeuwen, and remember catching it at the farm during verification, where it looked great. The problem now is the force I’m using when I release the low bar…my hand position is usually accurate, but I’m either giving too much or too little when I let go.

  Sometimes you can blame the bars…if the set you’re on is tighter or looser than you’re used to, which can wreak havoc on your routine, but the bars at the arena are the same brand we use in our gym and feel equally bouncy. Besides, everything else is working out, including the Maloney.

  The problem is that I fear the twist, I realize. The Maloney is straight up and back, but with the twist on the van Leeuwen I’m going up, I’m going backwards, and then I’m turning my body around, all while trying to keep my legs tight and my toes pointed. For a skill that takes a second, it’s too much happening at once. The twist should be easy, but because it’s freaking me out, it’s suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

  I’m giving myself less of a push back so I rebound more slowly in the air between the bars giving me a tiny bit more time to twist, but then I’m not actually making it far enough…and when I get frustrated and give myself more of a push so I do make it, I over-compensate and give too much, everything happens too fast, and I miss the mark completely.

  “Why can’t I just find a balance?!” I whine.

  Ruby laughs. “What?”

  Cool, now I’m saying things out loud instead of thinking them. Just one stop further on the crazy train that is my head.

  “Nothing.” I blush. “Van Leeuwen drama.”

  Ruby nods and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Mini huddle,” she whispers, glancing at Natasha, who’s listening to her iPod. “Seriously, do a different transition. You’ve competed the stalder shaposh plenty of times…you’ll lose a tenth in difficulty, but that’s a hell of a lot better than falling and losing a full point. Try a few in warm-ups tomorrow and if they feel better than the van Leeuwen feels, change it up.”

  “But Natasha…”

  “Natasha is pushing you to do the harder skill because she wants your difficulty higher so she can make you a great bars gymnast because she believes in you and is thinking long-term,” she interrupts. “You’re not a great bars gymnast, and you might never be one. Not with that swing.”

  I laugh. Funny because it’s true.

  “For real, you’re not going to be in a bars final anytime soon, so why push it harder than you have to? You need a short-term solution. Do what you can to get a respectable score and focus on what really matters, which is killing it on beam.”

  Ruby is absolutely right. “If Natasha is pissed, I’m fully blaming you.”

  “Cool,” she shrugs. “She’ll find something else to be pissed at soon enough. Even if she’s mad, it’ll only be until you go off and destroy everyone on beam, and then she’ll forget this ever happened, and you guys can have a serious chat on the flight home about changes to your routine for the long haul.”

  We arrive at the hotel, where Ruby, Emerson, and I are scheduled to have massages and some light physical therapy just to make sure our bodies stay in working order.

  The rest of the day is free, and Natasha wants us to relax as much as possible so we’re rested for the meet. I’m thinking beach time is just what I need to gather my thoughts about today’s bars session. A massage, a hot shower, the beach, a nice salmon dinner in the name of pre-meet tradition, and nine hours of sleep, glorious sleep.

  It’s the perfect way to chill before tomorrow, one of many
days this summer that will determine my gymnastics future. Deep breaths. No big deal.

  Saturday, May 14, 2016

  83 days left

  The crowd starts filing in an hour before the meet is set to begin, which is awesome. It gives me time to get used to having people screaming and cheering…or worse, gasping collectively when something goes wrong. The funniest is when we vault timers on giant mats to our backs on purpose to save our legs. I’m pretty sure people think we’re falling and our bones are smashed to bits.

  So far, so good. On bars, I warm up both the van Leeuwen and the stalder shaposh, also known as a Chow. It’s super similar to the van Leeuwen aside from the very beginning, where I straddle my legs while swinging around the bar in lieu of piking with my legs together and toes on the bar. It has the same feel in flight and like the Maloney, you catch the high bar without doing a half twist, which is obviously what matters.

  “Changing your routine on me?” Natasha asks, amused.

  “My low back hurts a little,” I lied. “The straddle feels better than the pike.”

  She thankfully brushes it off, too distracted to realize that if the pike in the skill made my back hurt, I’d also have pain on the Maloney, which also comes from a pike position. That was a freebie.

  Following warm-ups, every gymnast meets in in the tunnel that leads to the floor. In five minutes, we’ll march right back in, where we’ll be announced to the crowds, stand at attention for the national anthem, and then run to our first events for a final touch warm-up before the meet begins.

  We hang out in our rotation groups, in competition order, which thankfully means Ruby is right behind me. She grabs my shoulders and shakes them a little to rile me up. “Ready?!”

  “So ready.” I turn to face her and she’s jumping up and down to stay warm. “I’m doing the Chow, by the way.”

  “Good. Trust me, it’ll be a billion times better. It looked great in practice.”

  “Thanks.” I stretch my shoulders and back until I hear the walk-on music beginning and then I join Ruby in bouncing, which loosens me up and gets me energized and excited all at once. I feel a vibration in the drawstring bag I have slung over my back, and though I usually ignore my phone from warm-ups until the end of the meet, I don’t want to miss a good luck text from my parents.

  “Good luck, Mal!!!!” Except it’s not from my parents. It’s from Jack, who has also included about 600 emojis – smiley faces, random animals, the shooting star. I smile, but turn my phone off completely without responding before tucking it back into the little pocket. No distractions now.

  When we march out onto the floor, the main lights are off, neon lights are flashing, fog is shooting out of machines by the entrances, and big spotlights dance across the floor podium. I hear the vault competitors listed one after another, and then the announcer begins with my group as we climb the podium stairs.

  “Beginning on the uneven bars, please welcome Amaya Logan from Waimea Sports Center, Emerson Bedford from Vanyushkin Gymnastics, Nalani Logan from Waimea Sports Center, Amalia Blanchard from Malkina Gold Medal Academy, Ruby Spencer from Malkina Gold Medal Academy, Madison Kerr from Great Plains Gymnastics Club, and Elise Connor from Great Plains Gymnastics Club!”

  When our name is called, we take a step forward and salute to the crowd, first facing those in front of us and then turning to those behind us before stepping back in line. Emerson gets the most applause, Ruby gets a good amount, but not a ton, and the rest of us get polite smatterings.

  After each of the four rotations is introduced, we stand and face the big flag over the beam, hands over our hearts, while the Christina Aguilera-wannabe national anthem singer riffs her way through a too-long rendition of the song.

  And with that small ceremony, we’re off. Our rotation leader guides us to bars, as if we can’t make it across the arena on our own, and we all frantically wrap our forearms, dig for our grips, buckle them over our wrists, and dash to the chalk bowl for the touch warm-up. We each have 30 seconds to quickly run through a few skills, so I work my transitions and releases before hopping off the apparatus and leaving the podium.

  Emerson is sitting in a split next to the folding chairs where we’re supposed to sit when someone else is competing. I almost say good luck, but for some reason, don’t. Instead, I grab my iPod, scroll down to “Eye of the Tiger,” close my eyes, and picture myself nailing this routine. Everything else in the arena disappears, and I know I’m gonna kick ass.

  ***

  “Up next on uneven bars, Amalia Blanchard from Malkina Gold Medal Academy.”

  I’m at the chalk bowl giving my grips one last dusting, waiting for the bars judges to put up Nalani’s score. I wasn’t watching, but I’m guessing she fell…she looked absolutely suicidal when she left the podium.

  I walk over to take my place to mount, my mind automatically blocking out the distractions of the arena – the screaming crowd, someone’s floor music blaring over the speakers, and the flashy scoreboards around the perimeter of the place. I glue my eyes to the green flag; when it goes up, the judges are ready and I’m allowed to start my routine. My competition at the 2016 American Open officially begins.

  Big, deep breath, and I jump into my glide kip mount. Maloney to pak, no problem, I can do this in my sleep. But now for the test. I kip cast out of the pak, and then stalder through my next swing, gritting my teeth before letting go. I rebound up to the high bar, squeezing my legs together as hard as I possibly can, pointing the crap out of my toes, hands outstretched over my head and ready to catch.

  Bam, right in the sweet spot. My skill anxiety subsides and I am focused and fluid for the rest of the routine: toe full to Gienger, giant half to front giant to Markelov, toe-on to handstand, and then finally the giant half to front giant right into my dismount, a double front tuck.

  I take a tiny step forward to steady myself, feel my body absorb into the mat, and then hop my feet together before saluting to the judges, a big smile on my face.

  I made it through. That’s all I wanted. I didn’t have a single major error, and I was even able to concentrate on my form after I hit my transition. Competing here was mentally no different from competing in front of the few dozen parents who showed up at my J.O. meets. It’s actually super easy to forget about the crowd, the television cameras…

  Actually, it’s when you get off the podium that you notice the cameras, because the dudes lugging them around shove them into your face to get your reaction, as if me grinning from ear to ear makes for great TV. If you’re leading the competition, they never leave you alone. I almost want to lose just for that reason.

  “Sneaky routine change,” Natasha says, giving me a side hug after I hop off the podium. We walk back to our seats, cameras following us. “If you felt you couldn’t compete the van Leeuwen, you could have told me.”

  “It was a last-minute decision,” I lie. “I got scared and didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Well, at least you were smart enough to train your ‘last-minute decision’ before you did it, liar. But great job, really, you were crisp and clean, just some leg separation here and there, and the handstand on the toe full wasn’t really precise. Overall, good work, and we’ll talk about taking your van Leeuwen out for real when we get back to the gym.”

  Good. I take a sip of water and nod. Ruby is on the podium, chalking and waiting for before she gets her own green light. I don’t want to look at my score until it’s all over, and Natasha promises that she won’t say anything when she sees it.

  “Come on, Rube!” I yell right as she’s about to mount. Her routine has some crazy elements, but the one that’s going to freak everyone out is this combination she’s been training all year – a Ray half to a straddle-back half. The Ray is a release move starting from a toe-on before launching into a Tkachev, up and back over the bar before catching on the other side. Finally, right before you expect her to catch, she twists and then grabs the bar. Insane.