Tell a Story

A Story

In the Perspective of Lizzy Blessly

By Carlie Shiller

I have been a gymnast for as long as I can remember. I got my first “full” when I was seven, while most gymnasts do not get that move until they are teenagers. I always knew I had a gift, but I was also determined. I was practicing six days a week. I had big dreams and goals which included being a part of the US Olympic gymnastics team as well as the UCLA college team. Sometimes I had to remind myself I was so close to reaching my goals and I could not give up. There has been many ups and downs along my journey, but I stayed focused because I knew I was so close to accomplishing many things.

Last year I was practicing my vault for a competition. The vault is a gymnastic event where gymnasts run down the padded vault runway, then jump onto the springboard onto the “horse” or block where they finish by twisting off and landing. I usually nailed this and received high scores every time I performed this event at competitions. However, not this time. Each runway is different and the gymnast must count how many final steps she should take before she jumps onto the springboard. If she miscounts, the result could be bad.

Adrenaline rushing and heart pumping, I ran as fast as I could towards the vault. Somewhere my steps went wrong and instead of jumping of the springboard I ran right into the vault. It felt like nothing and everything at the same time. I bounced off and landed flat on the ground. All I remember was feeling confused and a little bit of pain. People surrounded me and were yelling all different things, but all I heard was silence. I tried to get up, but felt something pulling me back down. It felt like I was slowly being sucked into the universe. Soon someone carried me off and the next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital.

It was the same quiet I had heard before, except this time my parents greeted me as I woke up. The bags under their eyes showed they had no sleep and had been up all night worrying about me. I felt stiff as I looked at them. My brain wanted to move, but my body said no. I looked down and saw my neck in a cast. My mom explained I had broken my neck and hurt something in my back. She told me the doctors said I was lucky and my accident could have been worse.

With gymnastics came bloody palms, pulled muscles, and sprained ankles, but I had never imagined anything this bad. I knew the risks of falling off the balance beam or not sticking the landing off the uneven bars, but I thought they were unrealistic things our coaches were forced to warn us about. This was a reality. The pain was a reality. The numbness was fading and when I breathed my body ached. I always took care of my body like my coaches had warned me. Ice baths and rest, but what now? I thought this was the end of my gymnastic career. I had taken a few weeks off here and there for other small injuries and it was easy to recover. I did not know how I would recover from this. I was worried my teammates would get so far ahead of me while I was out. Could this accident ruin my future?

I had watched my teammates burn out from gymnastics and I thought after this I might too. It was so much pressure mentally and physically. Coaches were always expecting more out of you and no matter what you could never please them. The conditioning was hard and the competitions were stressful. I hated seeing my teammates quit. The girls I had grown up with and traveled the world with competing had suddenly left me. The thought hurt my chest and my day dream ended. My doctor was suddenly in front of me and told me I would be staying the night at the hospital to make sure everything was okay.

Without gymnastics I had a lot of free time on my hands. From practice six days a week, to no practice at all, I had a chance to pick up some other hobbies. I started sketching a lot more and learned I am a good artist. In the future I am even considering a job with art. Maybe an art teacher. I loved drawing, but I loved the Beatles even more. I found another passion in music. It was hard to sing without moving my neck too much, but I couldn’t help not humming to the Beatles. It kept me sane through this tough time.

I also could not get through this time if it weren’t for my friends. My best friends Eleri and Jovan were always checking in on me and texting me to keep me company. They made me laugh when I wanted to cry and kept me positive. Jovan was my number one supporter. The hardest part was when I went to watch a few practices to see my teammates and my coaches. When I saw my teammates practicing it made me wish I was back with them. It made me remember how much I loved gymnastics and why I had started in the first place. The gym was my home and my teammates were my family. When they saw me they ran over and hugged me. It was weird to see my coach hug me.

Recovering was the worse. My mind went from wanting to quit, to doing anything to get back on the uneven bars. Luckily, soon enough I did recover. I had to ease into things, but the next thing I knew I was practicing at the olympic training center. I remembered what the hour and a half trip to my gym was like and how I had to learn how to get over my car sickness to do homework in the car. In the end it was all worth it. I was making my parents proud, my coaches proud and most importantly, myself proud.