one week at mile 22

One week before State Meet and I am on my knees on the gym floor helping her put on her shoes because she is in too much pain to lean forward.

One week.

The chiropractor assures us it is a pulled muscle.  Different from the back issues plaguing her.  Different from the overuse injuries.  Different from the lingering hamstring and hip troubles or the pain in her shins.

Different.

But like the rain that keeps falling, it all feels the same.  Ice, heat, ibuprofen, ice, heat, CDB oils, ice, heat, tiger balm, ice, heat, massage, ice, heat, adjustments, ice, heat, roll, ice, heat, lidocaine patches.

Ice. Heat.

And I am stuck between two worlds.

One where I am her mother and I tell her, you don't have to do this. You have already done everything you need to in 9.  You could take the time to heal without competing. There is nothing before you that isn't yours to decide. 

That makes her cry harder so I step into the other world and tell her, it's only a pulled muscle, your back is healing, you have a week, we will do what it takes to get you there.

All around her the crowd of young ladies willing to stay here and do this is thinning.  It is the time of year and age when their bodies and minds begin to break.

This is mile 22.

The moment the promises you made to them the first time you held them in your arms are broken- because it is impossible to always protect them.  You can't keep them safe and you can't always be there.

I raised my children to grow-up but to never stop being young.

This one though, she is raising herself.  For as close as we are, she has always been just out of my reach.  One lap ahead, one branch higher, over to the next field, way out in the sea riding on the blues of the gym.

I knelt on the floor running my hand over her foot trying to knock some of the grit loose before sliding it awkwardly into her shoe.  I haven't done this since she was 3 and she told me I was doing it wrong.  I got so fed up with her and her need for perfection I threw her shoe across the house and I told her she could do it herself from then on.  And she did.

Until now.

One week before State Meet, almost to the hour.  And even then she told me I was doing it wrong...   

What I know: You can't wipe grit off.

It is easy to keep going when you are winning.  It is simple to say I will do this or I will be that- or even I could have.  What isn't easy or simple is finding your way when the lights seem to have all gone out.  Finding your footing when the crowds aren't cheering for you.  Building strength when your courage is bleeding and your body is bruised.

She will heal.  She will rise and go on.
I don't think I ever will.

She will look back at this part of her story and see it was all a playground readying her for life.  She will see her team and her coaches.  She will remember the weight of her work.  She will carry scars. She will leave me the box of medals and take with her the real rewards of what she has learned.  What she has taught herself to do.

One week.
One month.
One year.
One small lifetime.

Ice. Heat. Repeat.
This child was never mine; she has always belonged to herself.
     

Addendum:

Months (and months!) later we got an actual diagnosis: lumbarization of the spine. Her S1 vertebra is what is known as a transitional vertebra.  It is acting more like L6 than S1 and is partially fused on one side.  The 2 compression fractures healed leaving no trace behind (as true compression fracture should do) and a PARS fracture was found in the L6/S1.  With PT she has returned to gymnastics as a Vault and Floor special competing her first year of level 10 for GTC this 2020 season.  

putting it all in perspective: Losers (Netflix)

So worth watching!!! So many great lessons.

pics of Beach on Floor Lodi, CA Delta Classic

Photo credit Chris LaNasa

do you remember?

Jeff and I stood against the wall.  Among the desert scape, we stared up into the night sky.  The pool lay dark.  The house softly lit.  The moon wide awake.  BC came and went but Jeff and I stayed holding up the night.    

Do you remember how in Ohio you paid the uber guy not listen to me but drive us all the way to the front doors?

Do you remember the fry cook and the drunk guy in Minneapolis?

Do you remember the taco bar in Florida?

Do you remember the smell of the Las Vegas Ghetto house?

Do you remember the zen garden in Vesala?

Do you remember the "duck pond" at the Broadmoor?

Do you remember how close we both are to the end?

We stood in the dark watching the stars on his last scheduled travel meet with Sophie.  

(Regionals is in LV).  

We have done this mostly together.  Raised our daughters like sisters.  Pooled our talents and our money.  For 2 people who are very different, we work well together.

Honestly, he is a pain in the ass (he would say the same of me) 

but I couldn't have done this without him.  

And now, I can.  

BC has always protected me.  

Jeff helped me to learn to be capable and brave.

  

It is likely that this is Sophie's final season.... it is more than likely.  

It is even possible that her final meet has already happened without either of us there to see it. 

Do you remember jumping the fence? 

Do you remember the name of that beer?  

Do you remember standing on the beach staring out into the ocean?

Do you remember the scooter?

Or that time you were yelling back at me "I am a grown-ass man!"?

Deconstructed pizza and $8 orange juices?

A thousand cups of coffee in disposable cups.

Do you remember the house in Palm Springs where we stood out back by the pool and talked about all the crazy stuff we had seen and done together with our girls... but never once did we mentioned gymnastics?

Do you remember the day they first met?

Neither do I.

notes on Lodi, Ca

 I haven't written about the Lodi Meet.  I haven't had time but also, I haven't know what I want to say publicly.  First and foremost, I believe in good sportsmanship.  I believe in doing the right thing especially when you could get away with not doing it.

 Our beautiful house in downtown Lodi. 

Perfect for 5 girls and 2 moms <3 And 2 more girls and 2 more moms when we were lucky.

 Fine dining in a small town.

But back to what I wasn't saying... before Beach began gymnastics, I had a view (and it wasn't positive) of what the adults in the sport were like.  Our gym, our parents, the wider Utah community of gyms, and especially the judges I have met and listened to, they all have proven me wrong.

I have told countless numbers of parents if they get the chance to work a meet they should.  If they could only listen to the judges as they judge they would have a totally different view of this sport.

I have been so impressed by the judges I have met along the way.  Amazing, strong women (and men) with so much to offer to our daughters.

I wasn't in VA.  I can't second guess too much what happened to Beach's floor score but it did make me sad for her.  It was a beautiful routine.  It was given a number.  That number didn't seem to match but Season goes on.  And if the judging is rough but rough on everyone equally then let it be.

I was, however, in Cal.  Two of the best judges in the nation were also there.  Women, our daughters are privileged to know.  Judges who are tough but fair.  Judges who love the girls and the sport and it shows.

In contrast to them and their integrity, it made what happened on the other events even more shocking.  Judges openly rolling their eyes at athletes.  Judges muttering loud enough for others to hear, "just go, just go".  Scores that left not only our coaches but coaches from other teams shaking their heads in disbelief.

We are being told like bad weather, we encountered a pocket of judges who see it as their job to punish.  To use scores as a way to control the sport.

What great judges have shown me is that a good judge studies and learns and grows with the sport.  Good judges judge each routine fairly and regard each girl with respect no matter what her skill level.  A good judge is always cheering for not against the athlete before them.      

It breaks my heart to see all the negative ideas I entered gymnastics with are actually out there.  Alive and well.  Stereotypes that are ironically no joke.

Have you seen the movie Stick It?  We love that movie- for a million reasons.  Now we love it for a million and one.

These girls deserved better.  They traveled a long way.  They worked hard to be there.  And in return, they were treated pretty poorly by a few adults with the power to insert their own negativity into the numbers. 

At least those athletes who were lucky enough to get the 2 judges we know for sure were out there for all the right reasons, they were able to get out what they put in.      

I know for a fact my daughter's bar routine, the event she struggles on, was the very best she had within her.  And she was able to do that out of her respect for one of the judges sitting at that particular table.  That's what a great judge can do; they can inspire the athletes to rise.  When our girls see those judges they know they had better bring their best.  They will never forget them, the lesson they have shared and the growth they inspire. 

As for the other judges, the pocket of bad weather ones, they come with a different lesson entirely.  Never let someone waste your time twice.  

After all, scores don't really mean anything they only tell you how the judges are doing.