We were young at the time, having only recently made it to the competitive levels. And at six or seven years old, we completely idolized the older gymnasts on the competitive team. We were new and excited, and looked up to the level nine and ten gymnasts like they were living gods.
But of course, even these seemingly infallible goddesses had their mishaps every so often. This is one of those stories.
Some say that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I’ve since come to understand that you don’t know how strange gymnastics is until you’re retired.
These realizations come at random times. They could be the moment you wake up the morning after your usual conditioning day not incredibly sore. Perhaps it is the moment when you realize you haven’t been upside down for a full twenty-four hours (shocking, I know).
One that really hit me hard was the day I gave a pep talk to a member of my school’s track team. At least, I tried to give a pep talk. Read More…
During a preschool class:
Me: “Can I have you put your toes on the purple line?” (We have colored lines adhered with velcro to the floor.)
Child: looks aghast; starts to tug at his shirt.
“You want ALL of our clothes on the purple line?”
All Staff, unanimously: “TOES!!!”
Once upon a time, there was a gymnast deep in thought. She wondered why there was what looked like a block of chalk in front of her. She wondered why it looked like it was getting bigger. Suddenly, it hit her. The end.
A major part of this blog is the sharing of crazy stories that a non-gymnast would never hear.
That’s where you come in.
Like any gymnast, I have a lot of strange, interesting tales to tell about our insane sport, but I only have so many.
If you enjoy reading our posts here, and think you have a story you’d like to share, please email me at < gotchalk10 at gmail > I’d love to hear your tales and share them with world.
“No. There is absolutely no way I could make it.”
“Oh, come on, sure you could! I dare you to try.”
My eyes snapped up at the last sentence. You see, I pride myself on being a morally upright… determined… very stupid person. When I give you my word, I’ll do my absolute best to see it through. Unfortunately, when I am dared to do something, the same principle applies.
Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? I was landing in the foam pit, for goodness sake. It’s not like I was going to be permanently maimed in some ridiculous way, on my face no less, right?
Oh, if only I had known.
Let me tell you the story of my teammate’s lip piercing. It was the summer of her sophomore year in high school and, like many of the stories you’ll hear here, we were in the gym, conditioning. Two teammates of mine, Hannah and Lacey, were partnered up on one of the stops in our circuits: weighted arch-ups on the vault.
For those of you that don’t know, that means you dangle off the vault with dumbbells in your hands and arch up to vertical as your partner sits on your legs to keep you from slipping. It turns out that last part is very important, for without your partner holding you down, you could slide off the vault… right onto your face. This is something Hannah had to find out the hard way. Literally.
When she hopped onto the vault that day, she had no idea she would be getting a new accessory. You see, before that fateful conditioning exercise, Hannah had no lip piercing.
Afterwards, the same could not be said.
At first, everything was normal.
Hi, all! Welcome to the third and final chapter of the Blood Wall Trilogy. If you haven’t read the first two chapters, please click here to get caught up before reading chapter three: End of an Era.
As you may have read in the second installment, I pride myself on being one of several who helped spread the custom to the gym I transferred to around level 7. However, I am ashamed to admit that I was also witness to the end of the tradition that was the blood wall.
The beginning of the end was a face-plant on beam. Little did I know that a botched handspring layout to my face would eventually aid in the demise of the time-tested blood wall.
Destiny was fearless. A complete wild child through and through. Of course, this is an admirable — and somewhat necessary— trait in gymnastics, a sport that defies every instinct your brain sends you.
“Go run full speed at an inanimate object, and do a flip before you hit the ground,” says your coach.
“Hell, no!” says your body.
But not with Destiny. No, it seemed as though she was absolutely undaunted by the thought of, oh, I don’t know, flying off the apparatus and snapping her neck in half. However, being the reckless, easily-excitable crazed gymnast that she was, perhaps a little caution would have been wiser.
They say whoever smelt it, dealt it. I suppose that’s not quite true here…
I was in gymnastics when I was about 8 or 9 years old, and we were getting help with handstands, where the teacher would hold your back while you kicked up. When it was my turn, I had to fart SO BAD. I tried to hold it in, but that made it worse. It slipped out just as I went up, and went right in the teacher’s face. She screamed, horrified, “SHE FARTED IN MY FACE,” and dropped me. EVERYONE in the gymnasium heard. I never went back.
– hijklmarley, buzzfeed.com