My Third Parent. Senior essay by one of my gymnasts.
The gym is like my third parent, constantly nurturing and mentoring me. It feeds my desire to grow as an individual, encourages me to follow my passion, and makes me feel at ease and secure. It has always kept its doors open, allowing me to both find and evolve my character while encompassed by its musty, sweaty aroma and hazy, parched atmosphere. Even though the sport exists in its own world entirely, it is gymnastics I have to thank for teaching me an astounding amount about life.
A gymnastics competition is like a four-ring circus. There is always something going on, unless, paradoxically, you are a competitor. As a gymnast, this lack of action and abundance of anticipation can easily be a recipe for disaster, and, in the past, it has been for me. I first competed when I was six-years-old, and I quickly learned that I am not one to hide from or crumble under pressure. I am exhilarated by competition — my palms get sweaty just thinking about it. The tricky part has been learning how to harness this energy in a way that will benefit rather than impede my performance. Thankfully, I have had many opportunities to decipher and tame my competitive side. I have discovered that taking a few deep breaths can go a long way. Conversely, I have learned that not looking at the equipment while I compete is not the best idea. Most significantly, though, I have realized that how I carry myself while I am under pressure is much more important than the actual gymnastics I perform. I have fallen, omitted skills, injured myself, and forgotten my routine while competing. In other words, I have messed up a lot. Fortunately, my time as a gymnast has taught me that my character does not depend on how well I perform; rather, it depends on the way I react to my circumstances. The beauty of these lessons, that my composure is more important than my skill and that with a positive mindset being under pressure is invigorating rather than terrifying, is that they can be applied to situations that extend beyond the bounds of gymnastics, such in both the academic and professional world.
As it turns out, it takes a lot of time to learn how to flip and twist while also absorbing the impactful life lessons that gymnastics has to offer. At least 30 hours of my week goes toward gymnastics, 20 in the form of training and 10 in the form of commuting. But wait, there’s more. I attend an online private school and take six rigorous classes, three of which are AP. Needless to say, learning how to manage my time has been a crucial aspect of my life. I have learned the importance of prioritization and planning, skills that will benefit me during college and beyond. Without time management, I would not be able to balance my academics and athletics while remaining healthy and happy. Best of all, this lesson is timeless.
In addition to teaching me how to manage both pressure and my time, gymnastics has also offered me unique opportunities. The gym has always kept its chipped blue, creaky swinging doors open to me; all the while, gymnastics has opened new doors of opportunity for me. The most recent and significant door that it has opened is technically a giant, wrought iron gate, and it enters to Brown University. As a recruited athlete, I have been provided the opportunity to attend an Ivy League school. This, I realize, is not something that happens every day, and it is also not something I could accomplish without gymnastics. Competitive gymnastics has allowed me other opportunities, too, such as traveling to new places and meeting new people. These experiences have broadened my perspective and increased my independence. Having traveled to Iowa for Nationals, for instance, I no longer envision the state as just being completely barren farmland. Plus, I can now successfully navigate through airport security on my own — now that’s self-sufficiency. As the only level 10 from my gym, I have been forced out of my comfort zone at plenty of competitions and training camps. I used to dread being in a squad with an assortment of unfamiliar gymnasts, but now I find it interesting to meet my competitors and learn about their view of the sport. Committing to Brown, traveling to new places, and interacting with new people are just a few of the countless opportunities competitive gymnastics has provided to me.
The gym’s open doors resemble my parents when they stand with outstretched arms just moments before hugging me. Immediately upon embracing or entering, depending on which situation, I feel warm and fuzzy and protected. The gym’s ability to make me feel this way has shone through during particularly difficult times in my life. My older sister has severe special needs. Seven years ago, her mental state changed dramatically, and ever since then, she has teetered on the edge of stability. She has been jostled from hospital to hospital, school to school, and doctor to doctor, all while sporadically transforming back and forth from the loving sister I grew up with to a girl I hardly recognize. All along, though, the gym has remained the gym — a stable refuge.
It is unlikely that knowing how to point my feet and do a correct roundoff are skills that will benefit me after my gymnastics career comes to an end. It is likely, though, that understanding how to carry myself under pressure, manage my time, and follow my passions are skills that will benefit me forever. By means of gymnastics, I have built these attributes into my character, and, thanks to gymnastics, I have been presented with incredible opportunities and a constant refuge along the way. Even after I take off a leotard for the last time, gymnastics will continue to be a part of who I am.
