I know the power of the mind and body connection. I believe it. But I’m so tired of planning and preparing for a future. I want to do it. Action, practice, repetition—these are the things I put on hold for so many years, and when I got another chance to work toward my dream of getting to the Olympics, I swore I would work as hard as I could. And I have lived up to those words. Ican’t make up for the years I wasn’t training, but I can get the most out of every minute I have available now.
“Again.” He must be counting the seconds or visualizing it with me because he seems to know exactly when I’ve landed on the mat, arms raised over my head.
He makes me do it three more times before he says, “Now, this time I want you to put yourself there. You aren’t merely seeing yourself perform, you can feel the mat under your feet and your hands hitting the vault. Every detail is important here, just like when you’re doing it in front of the judges. To be the best, you must first convince yourself.”
“Again. Now feel the emotions. Pride. Determination. Tenacity. And above all…”
I finish the routine in my head, sticking the landing, chest raised, head high. Goosebumps dot my skin and my eyes open. “Hope?”
“That’s right. You do everything in your power and then reach for a little extra from the gymnastic gods.” His lips pull into a smile. A real one. He doesn’t show any teeth, but his mouth makes a definite curve.
“You mean like Simone Biles or Avery Oliver?”
He continues to smile at me, and oh my gosh, am I really joking around with Coach Rodier? I never thought I’d see the day. It loosens some of the tension coiled tight in my stomach.
“Each time you visualize your routines, you do it this way. Don’t simply see the movements,livethem. I know you’re frustrated by how slowly we’re moving with your training, but it cannot be rushed. You have the skill and the work ethic. You brought yourself a long way all on your own by doing it your way, but if you could have advanced to that next level doing those same things, you would have already done it.”
The truth of his words seeps into my bones. He’s asking me to trust the process. To trust him. From a girl who has taken careof herself and let very few people help in any meaningful way, that’s harder than it sounds.
“Okay.” I nod.
“Good. Now, let’s do it again.”
After working with Coach on vault, I spend the remainder of the day working transitions on uneven bars and finish up with a short cardio training. By the time I’m done, all I want is a shower and then to lie in bed and listen to the latest podcast Wren sent me. She promised this one was “slightly less unhinged.”
I pull on my sweats over my leotard and step into my boots. When I grab my phone from my bag, I have a new text from just five minutes ago.
Travis
Plans tonight?
I doubt he meant bed rotting.
Me
Not sure. Why?
Travis
Noncommittal in case my plans suck, huh?
Me
Maybe.
Travis
New restaurant opening. Some of the guys are going and we don’t have any food. You in?
My stomach growls.
He follows up with another text containing a link to the restaurant. It all sounds a lot better than anything I can grab on the way home.
Me
Can I wear sweats?
Travis
