rivers of doubt

The heat comes for the river first.  It drinks from it twisting the air into moppy strings of green earth. The dogs don't care.  They ride the black path as if it is tundra. One is leashed the other is not.

Along the trail, the grass grows tall but tired.  Sunlight clips through in broken waves catching on the stillness of the river and bouncing off the orb weaver webs.

I can see the spiders.  I can hear my heavy footfalls. Feel the pull of the dog who knows I am slow.

Returning to the J Trail is always the same.  It's like crawling down a tunnel; light at both ends and dark in the middle.

The darkness is doubt.  It is fear.

The dog pulling me is a flashlight that cuts the darkness.  He removes the fear of the next corner, of the overgrowth, and of the drug dealer on bikes that roam boldly.  His brashness and the way I handle him as if he were a keg of dynamite about to blow scares the men passing us.

For this, I am not sorry. In fact, it's a little fuck you for scaring me away from here in the first place and you are welcome.

The dog does nothing for doubt though.  Doubt only fades with time.  Time on the trail chasing the heat, chasing the river.

the moments in between

 BC and I left town on Thursday a day ahead of Beach who was flying into Spokane 

with her mates on Friday morning. Video postcards to Beach from her parents:

We stopped in Dillon and in Jackson Hot Springs, MT 

 The hot springs had been our main draw but we also wanted to see the Jackson Mercantile.  It was for sale and was on the tip-top of our list of "well there is an idea"...  but it already has new owners and sadly they aren't us.

 So Plan B, we found a historic home for sale in Hamilton, MT
that used to be a mortuary...

Video Postcard to Beach from her parents:

 Hamilton has a lot going for it! Not just the possibility of Death's Door B&B, come stay with us and sleep like the dead!  It also has BC's best friend, Land. Who bought us dinner (because BC forgot this wallet back at Land's house) and put us up for the night free of charge.

 It also has free range rabbits!!!!

The next day we met up with Beach and her mates in Spokane, fed them, checked into the hotel, and shipped them off to a gym... to take selfies. And to work out.

Then a couple hundred *U-Turns* later to the convention center to get gear. *Not a fan of Spokane and it has nothing to do with my near death experience walking alone through a homeless meth party under a dark freeway overpass. 

Finally a little downtime.

A little dinner and dessert.

Some play time.

 How about when your friend is not near enough by for the photo you want
so your dad stands in for her:

A good night of sleep, a little bit of waiting around, and then Meet Time! 

Way to go Beach!!! So proud of you <3 

After the meet when BC couldn't find where he parked the car in downtown Spokane we went to a bar for dinner until he could remember.

Some great Post-Meet hair.

The next day we drove straight home.
No, of course, we didn't.

There was Wallace, Idaho (I think Idaho?) but I was the only one who wanted to live there.

Back to Hamilton to show Beach the house and do some honey collecting.
Then stopped somewhere for a cookie the size of her face.

Tried out a new hot spring.
Lost Trail Hot Springs, MT

 That was Washington, Idaho, Montana, Idaho, and Utah

And finish <3 (sometime around 1AM)

what it takes

A four and a half hour practice beginning with Floor and Vault at the end of a long week of workouts. Followed by two back to back rotations on bars. Rushing to throw a few full routines on Beam to catch up with her team. Roughly fifty minutes of conditioning and stretching.

Three ibuprofen twice a day.  Four to five 20-minute rounds of ice and heat.

Beach has struggled all season with her bar routine (and her back). At the end of this week she was given the choice to change her routine for Regionals. To give up the 10 start value in the giant blind in trade for a pirouette to a shoot-half.

Mentally exhausted, she took the offer but it came with its own price tag. She only has 2 weeks to learn the new routine.  To put together skills that she has not done together before with a hard deadline and no real safety net to go back to if she "fails".

That's what she was doing on Friday when she stayed for a second rotation on Bars while her team moved to Beam.  It was what she was doing on Saturday morning when she walked back in a crowded gym and made her way back to Bars.

It's hard to watch them struggle. I am ready for her to NOT compete at Regionals and start rehabilitation on her back.  It's not that I don't want her to go to Regionals, it's that I don't want her to train for it... I want her to stop pushing and start healing.

After Bars, we drove out to the mall where she ran into a teammate out on a group day date for Prom (It's a Utah thing I think). We walked through the weekend crowds pressed behind the storefronts of glass.  Lulu for shorts. She had saved up to buy them for herself but I bought them for her as a treat. Lush for bath bombs; one for now and one to save for after Regionals. PacSun for overpriced...everything; she only bought socks.

Then the chiropractor. The bookstore to browse. Starbucks for a pretzel. A quiet family dinner of lasagna and salad to the backdrop of rich smells coming from the woodburning stove.

When she was offered the chance to come in and work extra on Saturday she had looked down at her hands turning them over. The hands of a gymnast.  It wasn't a question of do I want, or should I.  It was physically can I?

Will my body let me do what it takes?

Friday after practice I had taken her to Milley's for a dinner of chicken, fries, and milkshakes. We sat together in a little red booth watching the traffic of the Sugar House District pulse by. We talked about gymnastics which we don't really do very often. Usually we talk around it.

Since Sophie retired I have talked to Jeff almost every day. It's like seeing into a parallel universe. The universe of what if. All the unasked questions of regular girlhood and the outside influences rushing in like current trying to fill in the dry land that is no longer protected by the wall of Gym.

On the other side, I see Beach walking in on firm ground on a Saturday morning. Every coach pausing to greet her.  Stopping to smile and ask why she is there. Teams making space for her to warm-up and work her in on Bars. Parents, coaches, friends... what it takes is a village. Her Coach, who has been with her from the very beginning, standing there willing to go out of her way to help Beach help herself as if it was nothing.

Gymnastics takes everything but it also gives. It is a place, it is a people, it is a playground and a classroom. It is a closed door and an opened one. It is what she is. She is what it takes.