Those Few Minutes
Maybe she was born this way. Maybe she has to be crazy to love the sport, to love gymnastics. It destroys her body. It takes up nearly all of her life all for a few seconds on the mats. Sometimes she has to ask herself, “Is it worth it?” She always answers yes. Those few minutes mean the world to her. Whether she walks off or has to be carried off, the pain endured on those mats will always be worth those few minutes. If she loses or if she wins, whether her routine falls apart or marks perfection, those mats are worth it. That is why she gives everything while competing. The rush of air as she flies through the air, the sound of the excited crowd arises the second she sticks her landing. She smiles widely even when she aches from pain, because of these few moments. She will give her last few minutes on the floor with the realization that these minutes meant everything to her and that provides the motivation to give everything she has.
When she is competing she can feel it. The blood rushing to her face, she feels the nerves that are seemingly impossible to control. Her legs and hands shake, for fear of making a devastating mistake. Her success all depends on the performance she can give in such a minuscule amount of time. On December 3rd, 2010, she went to Regionals. Her goal was to score perfectly on beam. She counted to three, inhaled, and mounted the beam. Drops of sweat beaded up on her forehead. It was halfway through her routine, when she fell on her front walkover. Her first foot landed at the perfect angle. However, her second foot missed the beam completely. Her whole left side of her leg burned from sideswiping the beam; the skin was beginning to peel off. Quickly, she became overwhelmed, flustered, she told herself to stop before she humiliated herself even more. The silence of the audience was unbearable. It was as if everyone could hear her thoughts. A tear ran sheepishly down her cheek as she realized how much she had progressed in gymnastics. After all, she had made it to Regionals. This thought had convinced her, she decided to give it her all and not quit. She leaped effortlessly back on the beam and proceeded with her routine. Echoes of the crowd’s encouraging cheers and screams replaced the dead silence that had once filled the room. She nailed what was left of her routine with a victorious smile stretching from ear to ear. Her nerves were uncontrollable, but she could tell the scores had been posted from the gasping faces and gaping mouths she had seen surrounding her. Slowly she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the surprising news. Her eyes caught a large familiar screen with glowing yellow lights that lit up her score. Unbelievably, she had placed third in the region.
She was standing on the raised platform with her medal loosely dangling around her neck, bouncing off her chest with every exasperated breath she took. The pride from her was commitment was a miraculous feeling she had never felt before in her life. While standing glorious and tall on her throne of success she made a promise to herself. She made a promise to make the minutes worthwhile, no matter few. Also, to make that moment worthy of the crowd, the judges, the little girl in the leotard, for the girls wishing they could be in your position. She would compete for those people. Most importantly, she would compete for herself. She would strive to show herself that she could have a perfect routine. She pledged to compete through suffering and when she is older and she looks back, she will realize those few moments made her who she is today.