Finally, she answers my question.
"I miss Vault," she says.
This is the hardest part of gymnastics; injury and the doubt it lets in.
Be patient with yourself I tell her.
Stretch and condition and you will come back stronger, her coach encourages.
Don't give up, her teammate writes in a note.
But what is she telling herself?
We are well across the line of 4 weeks no pounding but she doesn't appear ready to return. She still hurts. The memory in her body of working out so hard, so long on the 2 compression fractures in her back lingers.
I offer distracts. I offer alternatives, additives, advice but she holds her heart out behind her and lets nothing get near it.
What no one tells you about is how drastically the road narrows at the end. Good friends have quit or retired. They have moved on most leaving her and their friendship behind. They move onto dance classes, cheer camps, and boys.
Friends and teammates graduate and go off to college to their new teams, new worlds.
She helps the girls new to Optionals Team. She coaches them patiently, quietly. Supporting them, guiding them, leading by example.
She cheers for her teammates.
She stands alone.
We should have pulled her at State Meet.
We should have never let her compete at Regionals and Westerns.
I know that now. I probably knew that then...
But with an athlete like Beach, it is nearly impossible to find the parent line. This is a kid who competed a full Meet Season with an avulsion fracture in her hip preventing her from being able to hurdle or split her legs. She took herself all the way to Westerns that year just as she did this year.
When I find them, I like to send words of advice back down the road to the moms and daughters coming up behind us. Advice I wish I had been given.
I find that we are at a point where I don't feel like I don't know anything anymore. And it seems like there is no one to turn to.
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