.
Exhaustion. Not the "I'm tired" type of exhaustion. But physical, mental, emotional exhaustion. I can barely stand at practice, and my head definitely is not in it whatsoever. I am about to break down, but I do not want my coach to see me crying. What is wrong with me? Why do I even put myself through this? What is the point? I have not done the sport my entire life; I am not a hot shot. I was never able to do club, most of these girls have that advantage over me. Why am I even here? I am not strong enough, not good enough, not polished enough, not "gymnast" enough. But quitting would be the worst possible decision of my life, and I have accomplished so much.
Gymnastics [jim-nas-tiks]: One of the hardest damn sports on earth. Requires balance, strength (physical and mental), grace, flexibility, hard work, and determination. One of the most mental sports ever. It will break you down physically, mentally, and emotionally. Every inch of your body will ache, even your heart. You not only train for yourself, but for your team. If you cannot handle having bigger muscles than most boys, do not come near the sport. If you cannot handle quarter-sized pieces of skin ripping off your hands, do not come near the sport. If you cannot get over mental blocks, do not come near the sport. Only the mentally, physically, and emotionally strong survive the sport of gymnastics. It takes a crazy person to get involved in the sport, but it also takes a crazy person to quit the sport. I guess I am a crazy person; I am absolutely mental.
"Jasmine, you can do this."
"No, I really cannot. All around is way too difficult, I cannot handle this. I am so stressed out, I cannot do anything right. This sport is not for me, there are so many others better than me. I am not important to this team; you will not be losing much at all."
"Excuse you? I do not think you truly understand how important you are to this team. A lot of girls in the gym look up to you, Jasmine. You inspire them to be the best gymnast they could be. I know you are important, Kissee knows you are important, Norberg knows you are important, and your teammates know you are important. Please realize that there is so much more to you, and you contribute so much to this team. You are an amazing student, person, and athlete. Do not walk away from this sport and team because of a bad practice or even a bad week. Do this for you, tumble after your dreams. You can do this."
After that practice, I left the gym crying, crying tears of joy. Because I was important. Because I was needed. Because I played a huge role in the success of my team. Because I inspired others. I was not going to quit, I was going to chase after every single little dream I have had that involves this sport. No one was going to stop me, not even myself.
Come January 31, 2014, I am focused. I am motivated. I am ready. There is a fire going on inside me, fueled by the fact that it was conference. West Leyden High School did not know what was coming, and neither did the other West Suburban Conference Gold schools. Truthfully, I had no idea what was coming, because you never know what could happen. All I cared about, walking into the school, was that I was about to make it known that I was a force to be reckoned with.
Time for warm ups.
Warm ups are hectic; everyone is trying to get routines in before time runs out. Each of the six schools there was on their own event when warming up, except on floor. Two schools warmed up on floor at a time. Each rotation of warm ups lasts about fifteen minutes, which is not long at all. Warm ups are nerve-wracking. A bad warm up calls for a bad routine during competition, and that is never good. A good warm up calls for a good routine during competition, and that is what every gymnast hopes for. During warm ups, you try your hardest to stay focused, and act as though you are already competing. You try to hit everything, even if you do not hit everything, you do not let it break your focus. As warm ups come to an end, you slowly freak out inside; it is almost competition time.
The end of warm ups, the beginning of the conference meet; I have something to prove to myself. Every gymnast for themselves, it is survival of the fittest; literally.
Addison Trail is up on uneven bars first. Perfect. My strongest event, the event I am most confident in. I grip up; Coach Norberg gives me a few words of encouragement that really motivate me. I wait for the judge to salute to me, so I know I can start. When I am saluted, I step up to the bar.
Kip, switch kip, clear hip, kip, squat on, long hang pull over, baby giant, baby giant, fly away. Stick the landing.
Executed absolutely perfect. Flawless. I start tearing up; the smile on my face is bigger than ever, because I am so proud of the routine I just competed. I get a solid 5.5, the highest score I have gotten on bars all season. Conference is off to a wonderful start.
What is next? Floor. Alright. I am very indifferent on floor, because I love the dance and leaps, but I despise tumbling. I envision my tumbling passes, I did them well during warm ups, which means I will do the same in front of the judge. Now, it is my turn on floor. The judge salutes me. I get ready. Dead Silence, my floor music begins to play, and I begin my routine.
Beginning dance, first tumbling pass: round off-back handspring-back handspring, leap series: side switch leap-straddle full, more dance, second tumbling pass: front handspring-forward roll-cartwheel, more dance, leap series: switch leap-straddle full-wolf full, a little more dance, last tumbling pass: round off-back handspring-backward roll, dance/acro series: cartwheel-tuck full, shushunova, end pose.
Done. All fit into ninety seconds, crazy right? I did fairly well, it definitely was not my best routine, but I am pleased. I receive a score of 6.6, not my highest, but I will take it. Two events down, two more to go.
Balance beam is my worst nightmare; Four feet off the ground, four inches wide, and sixteen feet long. Doing beam is a death sentence, although, I have not died yet. In one word I can sum up my feelings on beam: Hell. Too bad I cannot get out of this event, especially because my coach is staring right at me as I get ready to perform in front of the judge. And there is the salute from the judge, it is go time.
Straight jump end mount, tuck jump, some weird poses, sissone-sissone, pivot turn, full turn, more weird poses, wolf jump-wolf jump, last of the weird poses, handstand-back tuck.
Shall we not discuss beam. I fell once, wobbled a ton, and, wow, I have zero confidence when it comes to that apparatus. Although, I did get a 5.3, which is pretty shocking because I did horrible. Who cares, I have one more event to redeem myself.
The last event to do is vault, and vault is the easiest event in my eyes. All you have to do is run at a stationary object and flip over it; it is completely sane and simple. I have nothing but confidence before I vault. The judge salutes me, it is time to go.
Vault one: start at fifty-four feet, run, jump on spring board, front-handspring over vault, now repeat for a second vault.
Like I said, vault is easy and harmless. Probably because I do the easiest and most harmless vault there is. The funny thing is there actually are easier vaults. I score a 6.6 on both vaults and I am absolutely pleased because that is one of the highest scores I have gotten on vault.
When all the teams finish competing, we get ready for awards. Time to crown the best gymnasts in the West Suburban Conference Gold division.
Awards are given out in Olympic order: vault, uneven parallel bars, balance beam, and floor exercise. Awards are also given out for the junior varsity and varsity levels. Awards are even given for all-around; gymnasts who do all the events, aka: me. Top ten for each category is given an award; fourth through tenth place gets a ribbon, first through third gets a medal.
They announce top ten for vault; my name is not called; which is not a surprise to me. They announce top ten for uneven parallel bars; my name is not called; I missed the cut off by one tenth, if only I had gotten a 5.5. They announce top ten for balance beam; my name is not called; which was expected because I did terribly. They announce top ten for floor exercise; my name is not called; once again, I missed the cut off by a few tenths.
The only item left to be awarded is all-around. My only hope. I tremble. My hands are sweating and my heart is beating like crazy. There are not that many all-arounders. All-arounders are rare, very rare. If I did not score very high on individual events, maybe my all-around score would bring me some luck.
"Jasmine! This is you! Get ready to go up there!"
"I probably did not score that high, relax guys. I did awful today."
"Top ten all-around gymnasts for West Suburban Conference Gold division...tenth...ninth...eighth..."
My heart beats faster, maybe I did not do as terribly as I thought.
"Seventh...sixth...fifth..."
Did I really do that well? Enough to score within top five? My body is shaking.
"Fourth: Jasmine Lollino, Addison Trail!"
Did I hear that right? The announcer just said "Jasmine Lollino". That is me. That is seriously me. I have only been doing all-around for one season; this season, and I placed fourth all-around. There are six schools at this conference meet. Each team consists of at least forty girls. You do the math. Of all those gymnasts, I placed fourth all-around for junior varsity.
I stand up, my team is congratulating me as I walk up to the podium. I am standing in front of a crowd of spectators, all watching as I receive my yellow ribbon for my accomplishment. Everyone is taking pictures, including Coach Kissee and my mom. It is camera flash, after camera flash. Is this what it feels like to be an Olympian?
I am crying, crying tears of joy. Because I never imagined I could actually place for anything in a sport. I never thought I would ever be able to achieve anything close to this. But, hey, I guess this yellow ribbon is proof that I truly am everything I never believed I was.
Exhaustion. Not the "I'm tired" type of exhaustion. Not physical, mental, or emotional exhaustion. But the overflow of "excitement and happiness" exhaustion. I can barely stand at the end of conference, and my head was definitely in the meet. I have broken down, but I am okay with everyone seeing. Nothing is wrong with me. I put myself through physical, mental, and emotional pain for the love of the sport. The point is passion. I have not done the sport my entire life; I am not a hot shot. I was never able to do club, most of those girls had that advantage over me. But who cares. I am here because I cannot bear being away from the sport. I am strong enough, I am good enough, I am polished enough, I am "gymnast" enough.
I am important. I am needed. I play a huge role in the success of my team. I inspire others.
I am a crazy person; I am absolutely mental.
