Gymnastics is Life

A monologue I wrote for drama last year

Competitive gymnastics is tough. It combines the individuality of each gymnast with team work. No two gymnasts are the same, but it is their differences that make the team strong.

The gym is like my second home; my team mates are my sisters. They understand like no one else can, because we’re all shooting for the same stars, we’re all going for the gold. They love the sport just like I do. Gymnastics has taught me to fly, to believe in myself.

I’ve heard it said that “gymnastics is easy.” But c’mon, if it were easy, they’d call it football. And just how many football players do you see leaping around and doing the splits? Gymnasts use muscles that normal people wouldn’t even think of. We fly, we fall, we break into little pieces and then rebuild ourselves, and rebuild each other. The cycle repeats and yet we strive on, going for that 10.0, the prize at the top of the mountain. We accept nothing less than our best. One of the greatest things in the world is the feeling of mastering a skill. The first time you stuck your vault, or you threw your tumbling pass without a spot, or landed a cartwheel on beam. The fear builds inside you, whispering tragedies in your ear. But somewhere beneath the fear, power is stirring. You have the skill, and you’re finally sure of yourself. You finally trust your body to carry you through, and you reach down past your fear and hold onto your courage. You take a deep breath, and then go for it. Time blurs as you hit perfect form, legs straight and muscles tight, moving through the skill as if you could fly. And then you’ve made it, and you can hardly believe it.

Competition day comes; it’s the first meet of the season, but you’re so ready. Nerves are high, you’re shaking a little. You envision your routines, every movement precise, every toe pointed. Flawless. When it’s your turn for beam, you smile, and calmly approach the event, even though your heart is racing.  Present to the judges, and then it begins. Everyone is watching, but you aren’t bothered because you’re shining like a star, smiling through every skill. You stick your dismount, present to the judges and finish, then take your seat beside your team mates.  Watching the scoreboard in nervous anticipation, you wait for that golden ten-point-oh that you’ve worked so hard for.

9.95

You sigh, disappointed in yourself, but excited for the surety of having taken the gold. 9.95 is awesome, and no one will beat it, you’ve won the beam title for sure. But at the same time, you sigh, knowing you could have tried just a bit harder for that 10.0.

During the awards ceremony, they announce vault champions first. Vault is your worst event. They call out first place, and your name echoes through the sound system. You freeze, could it be true? Slowly you step up to the top of the podium, and accept the gold.

Looks like your hard work paid off.

As your team and family cheers, you reminisce about past days in the gym.

Every day that you toiled away, fighting gravity to land your dismount from the uneven bars.

All the progressions and conditioning you pushed yourself through so you’d be strong enough for your tumbling passes.

Each time you cried after a fall, and the uncountable times that you’re hands bled all over your grips.

The days where you failed every skill, and thought you just couldn’t keep going.

And the days where you just wanted to quit.

But then you remember the two week vacation with your family, and how you were so happy to get out of training, but after two days wished you were back home in the gym.

As you stand at the top of the podium, you see the faces of parents, coaches, sisters and teammates, everyone that’s supported you. You realize that you can never quit. Somewhere deep inside, you know that stepping out on that blue carpet means giving it your all. You put everything on the line for the sake of your dream, for the light at the end of the tunnel. You will never give up, despite the struggles and hardships. You’re always going to strive to be better than your best, and ignore the pain that threatens to beat you down.

 

Gymnastics is more than just a sport. Inside every true gymnast, a fire is burning. Some people say “Wow they’ve given up their lives for the sport.” But that’s not true, because gymnastics is our lives.