Squinting, I do my best to find them in the crowd and spot them right near the floor routine mat. Sitting front row are Quentin, Mila, Ian, Camille, Ryker, Olivia, Clara, and Kaya.
Love swells in my chest at the sight of the people I love the most, and it reminds me that no matter what happens, I have my family. Which is truly the greatest achievement of all.
Hell, they came all the way to Beijing to support me as I compete in the Olympics, with Ian and Ryker paying fines for missing two weeks of baseball.
Yeah, I made Team USA again.
After the podcast came out, the gym was revamped with all new trainers and coaches. Long gone were the scum who all had a hand in silencing and dismissing me wrongfully from the team.
The summer after I had Mila, I competed in a qualifier competition and placed gold in all categories. I wasn’t expecting it, not after being off for so long and only having trained for a few months.
I was proud nonetheless and ecstatic when Team USA offered me a spot on their team for the Olympics the next summer.
And now I’m here, competing for what I know will be the last time.
I wanted to come back once more, for me and my daughter. To see what it felt like to compete when it wasn’t for gaining the attention of someone who was never going to give it.
It’s the first time I haven’t looked for her in the crowds. I’ve truly let her go, and while it’s painful at times, it’s exactly what I needed.
It has been so freeing. It’s made gymnastics fun for me again, and oddly enough, I think it’s made me a better gymnast.
I know this is it for me, though, competing-wise. I’m twenty-six now, and while competing used to be everything to me, I know it’s time to shift away. I’d like to have more kids, at least three. I love being a mom and parenting with Quentin is the most fun and rewarding experience. I’ll still coach at ESA, but my days of competing are over after this final floor routine.
Stepping out of the tunnel, I’m met with clapping and cheers from around the gym. I wave to the crowd, giving them a smile as I make my way to my team.
“Teagan, mind if we get a quick word in with you?” a reporter asks.
“Sure,” I agree, noticing the camera and Olympics rings on her shirt.
“How are you feeling going into your final competition for the Olympics? So far, you’ve placed number one in everything else. Do you think you can sweep the competition here?”
“I’m feeling confident, but mostly excited. This is what I love to do, and I’m excited to perform a routine I have fun doing. Winning would just be the cherry on top,” I say humbly.
“Well, good luck, Teagan. It’s been amazing watching you perform again. I think I can speak for women when I say it’s been very inspiring. Not only did you come back after that awful incident, but also after having a baby. That’s no easy feat.”
“Thank you so much. I hope all the women watching never forget their power,” I say, then smile and nod to the camera before continuing on to where the rest of my team is.
I take off my sweatpants and run my hands over my black leotard, with blue and red designs all over. It might be the last time I wear one of these, and I do my best to take in every single detail I might never feel again.
Carol is the first to do her routine, with me going next.
I stretch as I watch, and when she finishes, I clap along with the crowd, proud of my teammate.
I’ve never been much of a team player before, but now it’s different.Iam different.
“Teagan Witt,” I hear my name called on the microphone, my signal that I need to make my way to the mat.
All I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears as I walk, the buzz of the crowd fading into background noise that I tune out.
I look for my daughter in the crowd with her long waves and big hazel eyes, and find her waving to me with a wide smile. I blow her a kiss, and Quentin too, who mouths, “I love you.” It erases the jitters, and instead I feel grounded, ready to do this.
When I hear the beginning notes of “Still Into You,” I snap into performance mode.
Doing my routine is like second nature, having practiced it so many times. I hit every note the way I planned, and I execute all of my stunts without flaws, my landings strong and sturdy.
I can feel the energy in the room, and it builds me up. I’m in the corner, taking a breath before I complete my final stunt, a triple twist with a double tuck. It’s the hardest skill in the routine, but I know I’ve got this.
And I do. I complete it perfectly, landing on both feet without stumbling. The crowd goes wild, and I’m smiling from ear to ear as I finish my last few moves and end up on the floor, in the splits position.
