Strength and Beauty
The Queen
“She's done.”
“He always breaks them.”
“At least she already reached her peak.”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“His own daughter. His own daughter another one of Vise's Victims.”
Those words echoed in the corners of mind as I stood at the end of the vault runway, staring down the vaulting table. I rolled my surgically repaired ankle around, feeling the stiffness from the scar tissue. I smoothed any flyaways around my hairline and made sure my ponytail was secure. I chalked my hands, trying to forget the memories of two years ago.
“On beam for the USA, is Laaaana Viiise!” The announcer's booming voice echoed through the stadium. It was my fourth World Championships and I was competing the all-around. The most prestigious event for an individual gymnast. The all-around champion was the Queen. She was the best in the World. I had achieved that title twice before and had finished second at the previous Olympics.
I saluted the judge, who raised a green flag, telling me to go. I nodded and stared down the springboard that was in front of the beam. I took a deep breath and hurdled into the round-off and did a full-twisting back handspring onto the beam into a back handspring, layout stepout.
“Lana is the leader going into this rotation and historically, she has been solid on this event,” The commentator's soothing voice noted. “What a lovely mount, very elegant.”
I paused, arms up and by my ears, preparing to go into my leap series. Everything was going perfectly until the Onodi. The Onodi was not a particularly hard skill but it was complex and required a lot of precision. I was to dive backwards and do a ½ twist before my hands touch the beam and do a front handspring out of it. The hardest part was the fact that I couldn't see the beam to know where to plant my hands and to walk out of it. If I was the least bit off, I would be on the mat and out of the competition.
The Onodi connected to an illusion turn were my signature skills on this event. I swung my arms and dived into the ½ turn. I reached my hands towards the beam but something was wrong. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I fell head first onto the beam. I heard a collective gasp and a laugh. I had a hunch on who the laugh came from, Kristen Johnson that bitch. I laid on the mat in a daze. I quickly got up and hopped back onto the beam, knowing that after falling, I only had 10 seconds to get back onto the beam or else I would receive a deduction. My legs felt wobbly on the beam. I only had my dismount left.
“You can do it, Lana,” I told myself, “Just stick the dismount and you still have a shot.”
I launched myself into the back handsprings, punching off the beam with all my might and I folded my body into a piked position, my hips bent and my knees straight. I pulled the two flips around as hard as I could and opened up to spot the ground. My feet met the mat and I could feel my ankle buckle from the g-forces. I grimaced but I kept my feet planted to the floor, determined not to move them. I saluted the judge again and limped off the podium to meet my coach and dad, Boris Vise. My dad pulled me into a hug.
“Dad it hurts so bad,” I was on the verge of tears. My ankle was throbbing.
“It's okay, baby. It's okay. Do you wanna do floor, still? We can still pull out of this,” he advised.
“The score for Lana Vise on beam is 14.075, putting her in third place behind Kristin Johnson and Steliana Patrascu.”
I was willing to scratch floor but I was so close to capturing the all-around title. I had to at least try. “I can do floor,” I sniffled.
“On vault, from Vise's Olympic Gymnastics Academy is Lana Vise.”
“At these Olympic Trials, the gymnasts who finish first and second get a guaranteed berth on the Olympic team,” The commentator explained.
I saluted the judge, who raised her green flag, telling me to start. I stared down the springboard and the vaulting table. I leaned forward and sprinted down the runway as fast and as controlled as I possible could. I hurdled into my round-off.
I hurdled into my round-off and I dove backwards onto the horse, planting my hands firmly and pushing off the sprung surface. I did two and a half twists into the air. Instead of planting my feet onto the mat. My butt hits first.
“Lana, you're not getting through enough on your round-off. You're high on the vault table. So what? It doesn't help you. You aren't getting enough air to complete the twists and land,” Coach yelled.
I had just gotten the 'okay' from my doctor to start training and with Nationals looming I needed to have a good showing, if I wanted to make it to Olympic trials and eventually the Olympics.
I hurdled into my round-off and I dove backwards onto the horse, planting my hands firmly and pushing off the sprung surface. I did two and a half twists into the air. I planted my feet onto the mat, but I had to take a small step from the lack of balance.
“That is the first time I have ever seen her do the vault to her feet. She has been landing on her back, her knees, and her stomach all this week in practice,” The commentator mentioned.
I smiled and saluted the judge before hopping off the podium to meet my coach.
“Good job honey. Your feet weren't as pointed and you could've done without the step but it was good. You got through on the round-off and you were right on the middle of the table. Good,” He demonstrated the landing position and the bend in my knees that I needed to stick the landing.
I nodded and strapped on my leather grips, getting ready for bars.
I stood on the blue floor exercise mat, ready to perform. All I needed to do was land on my feet and I would at least have a medal. But if I wanted gold, I would need to stick all my passes and maybe throw the upgraded passes I was working on. I had been practicing a quadruple twist, one flip with my body completely straight and four twists, a skill which no one has done before, and a full-twisting double layout, two flips with my body in the straight position with a full-twist on the first flip. Those two tumbles were considered some of the most difficult skills in gymnastics. If I did those skills, I could bring home the gold.
“Lana, finish strong,” Coach yelled from the sidelines, “Focus on the landings.”
“Lana is going to have to do the floor exercise of her life today if she wants to stay in the medals," The commentator noted
“That fall on beam looked pretty serious. I'm surprised she's even going up at all,” The female commentator mentioned.
I took my beginning pose and waited for my music to start. It came time to decide whether or not I should do the quadruple twist. My ankle was pulsating. I was dizzy and light-headed. I need to do this. I need this. I launched into the air and twisted my body around, once, twice, three times, and four but I landed on my stomach and face. I quickly got up and back into the corner. I needed to do my last pass, the full-twisting double layout. I ran and tried to generate as much speed into the tumble as possible and I launched into the air. I couldn't pull the flip around to my feet. I just didn't have the energy or the strength.
I landed on my head. I blacked out. I faintly remember hearing my music finish and the whispering of coaches and other gymnasts.
“She's done.”
“He always breaks them.”
“At least she already reached her peak.”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“His own daughter. His own daughter another one of Vise's Victims.”
Vise's Victims.
“Lana, you were extremely dehydrated. That explains why you were so dizzy and why you missed your hands on the Onodi. You fell on your head twice and you had a pretty serious concussion. The landing on your double pike dismount caused a fracture in your left ankle. It was incredibly foolish of you to have done floor. The tumbling caused the ligaments to tear and the fracture to turn into a complete break. This is where you tore the ligaments in your ankle and this is the break,” The doctor pointed to the X-ray and the MRI. “We're going to have to operate.”
My coach had a reputation for being tough and for “breaking” gymnasts. Many of his previous gymnasts had serious injuries and were forced to retire. Vise's Victims. I was now dubbed one of Vise's Victims. But I was not going to retire.
“Lana should do well on this event. The ankle will not come into a factor until the dismount.”
I stood in front of the low bar, ready to start my routine. I closed my eyes and visualized the swings and complex bar work and releases. I remember my dad's words to me before the competition started.
“Do gymnastics like you did when you were a kid. When you did it because you loved it. When you didn't want to take your leotard off and you would wear it to sleep.”
I saluted the judge and started my routine. I swung the bars like a kid on a playground. I didn't think about the competition. I didn't think about winning the all-around title. I didn't think about the injury. I didn't think about anything but having fun and enjoying myself.
I winded up into my dismount and launched into the air, doing a double twisting, double somersault. Two flips, two twists. One piece of air. I bent my knees to help absorb the shock as I landed and I stuck it cold. I saluted the judges and hopped off the podium to meet Coach.
“That was good. The dismount was spot on but your pirouettes finished a little late. For beam, I want you to start warming up.”
“The score for Lana Vise, from Vise's Gymnastics Academy, is 15.025. Putting her in fourth place going into the third rotation.”
There was some booing from the audience. The score was low in comparison to my start value. I had a start value of 16.5, which meant the judges found a little less than 1.5 points worth of deductions in my routine.
“Lana Vise just did one of the best bar sets so far and she get's a 15.025. Ridiculous!”
I did some quick math and I knew that unless I did the Onodi on beam, there was no way that I would get a score high enough to finish in 1st or 2nd, even with floor left.
I practiced my acrobatic skills on the 4-inch white line on the floor. I squeezed my eye shut. I visualized myself doing the Onodi perfectly. Taking off straight, my hands grabbing the beam, landing on one foot and going straight into an illusion turn. “Straight take off, point your toes, grab the beam,” I repeated over and over again. I did one Onodi on the white line and another. I was off on both of them and I knew that if I did them like that on the beam, I would fall. But at least I was doing it.
“Are you sure?” Coach asked after noticing me practicing the Onodi.
I nodded.
I nodded.
“You need to do the Onodi.”
I swung my arms, ready to dive into the half twist, but I couldn't. Right before I launched into the twist, I froze. The fear. The panic. I couldn't dive backwards and not see the beam. I couldn't get the image of my head crashing against the beam out.
I had watched the competition again. I barely remember much of the meet. The doctor said my amnesia was a result of my concussions. I saw what I did wrong. I had taken off crooked. I reach my hands back and to the side so I had missed the beam. I played the Onodi over and over again, vowing to never make that mistake again.
“Lana, you have to do the Onodi. Everyone in the world is getting better and you're stuck here not being able to do a skill you've been doing since you were 8. Do you want to be the best?”
“But, Daddy-”
“Other gymnasts are getting better, better than you. You want to quit. Go ahead quit.”
I hopped off the beam and stomped to face him. “It's easy for you. You have a bunch of other gymnasts waiting in the wings to come and take over my spot. They don't care about how many Vise's Victims there are because they know you can get them places. You didn't hit your head on the beam. You didn't have your ankle practically explode. You didn't have two concussions.”
The look in his eyes softened. At that moment, he was no longer Coach. He was Dad. “I don't want you to throw all your hard work away. We can take out the Onodi. Switch for something where you can see the beam, okay?”
I nodded, weakly.
I nodded and saluted the judge. I stared down the springboard that was in front of the beam. I took a deep breath and hurdled into the round-off and did a full-twisting back handspring onto the beam into a back handspring, layout stepout.
I sneaked a look at the gymnasts on the side and I saw Kristen Johnson staring at me, watching my every move. I danced getting into position for my Onodi. “Straight take-off, point your toes, grab the beam,” I repeated to myself. “Straight take-off, point your toes, grab the beam.”
I swung my arms and dived into the ½ turn. I reached my hands towards the beam. I was a little off-center but I fought to stay on the beam. I wasn't going to fall. I wasn't going to give Kristen Johnson a reason to snicker. I landed on one foot and went straight into the illusion turn. Just the dismount left. I launched into the back handsprings, gaining speed and momentum with each handspring. Punching off the beam, I lifted high in to the double pike somersault. I felt my feet meet the mat and... a stick! I threw my arms into the arm, saluting the judge. I was practically bouncing off the podium and my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.
“Amazing,” was all he said. “The Onodi was iffy but you pulled it out and fought for it, which was good. On floor, just go out there and leave it all out there. Don't give anyone a reason to question your comeback.”
I nodded, still giddy from the beam routine.
“The score for Lana Vise, from Vise's Gymnastics Academy, on beam, is a 15.466, putting her in third place behind Kristen Johnson and Rebecca Ross.”
I was walking to my bag, when Kristen Johnson bumped into me, nearly shoulder checking me into the chairs.
“Ugh, I got bitch on me,” She sneered as she kept walking.
I stretch and rolled my ankle. I fingered the scar on my ankle from the surgery.
“Lana! Bryan is here to see you!” My mother announced as I returned from training. “He's in your room.” Bryan was my boyfriend. Was for a reason.
I went to my room and saw him sitting on my bed. “Bryan what are you doing here?”
“I still love you.”
“Get out.”
“Lana. I know you still love me.”
“I can't trust you and that overrides everything. Don't you dare think that I forgot what you did to me and then you go and lie to my parents about it,” I spat. “I think I'm going to go tell them right now,” I hissed as I moved to leave.
Bryan lunged and slammed the door shut. “No you're not,” He grabbed my shoulders and pinned me against the wall.
“Ow, Bryan. That hurts,” I whimpered.
“Everything okay up there?” My mother called from her office.
“Yeah, Lana's ankle is just hurting,” Bryan called out.
“Shut up.” I snapped.
“You are such a freakin' whiner, you know? Blah blah blah you forced me blah blah,” He grabbed a pen off my desk and was grasping it so tight his knuckles turned white.
My ankle was still weak from surgery and it had given out from under me. I was now sitting on the floor.
Bryan crouched down and stroke my hair, “You think you can contradict me? I think your scar needs to be re-stitched,” He clicked the pen open and closed several times before finally clicking it open. The point dragged along my skin and stopped at the scar on my ankle.
“Bryan no- My gymnastics-”
“Do you think you give a damn about your gymnastics? It's not even a sport.”
“That's where I draw the line. You know how much my gymnastics means to me.” I struggled and flailed trying to free myself from Bryan's grasp. “Bryan. No. Stop. Please,” I begged.
“How many times have I told you.” The pen made contact with the first stitch, “Do.” He dug the pen into the scar. “Not.” Blood started trickling down my ankle. “Tell.” The first stitch snapped. “Me.”
I winced in pain and a single tear rolled down my cheek.
“What to do,” He buried the pen into the opened wound. He tossed the pen aside. The tip was covered with my blood and the air in the room smelled metallic, “I'm leaving.” He got up and walked out of my room, “I'm sorry. I can't stay for dinner,” He said sweetly to my mom.
I managed to hobble to my feet and to my father's office. “Daddy.” My ankle was dripping in blood and was staining the white carpet. “I have to tell you something about Bryan.”
“You got this Lana,” Dad yelled from the sideline as I took my position on the floor. “Leave it all on the floor.”
My music started and I did just that. I left it all on the floor. I gave floor routine of my life and I reflected on the past two years. Injury to now. I overcame a lot of agony and pain to get to this moment. To fight for a spot on the Olympic team. I wouldn't trade any of the hardships and pains I went through because it made me stronger as a person and a gymnast.
I took a deep breath before running into my last pass. The full-twisting double layout. I tried to generate as much speed into the tumble as possible and I launched into the air. This time I had the strength. I pulled the two flips around and completed the full twist. My feet met the floor and I knew. I stuck it. I did the choreography into my ending pose. I could feel the roar of the crowd as I finished.
“That was the best floor routine we've seen from anyone all year.”
I jumped off the podium and I hugged my Dad. He was Dad now. The competition was over and he was no longer Coach. He was Dad. “I think- I think that might have been enough,” He said.
“I can't breathe,” I stuttered out.
“The score for Lana Vise, from Vise's Gymanstics Academy, is a 15.625, putting her in first place ahead of Kristen Johnson and Rebecca Ross.”
“He always breaks them.”
“At least she already reached her peak.”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“His own daughter. His own daughter another one of Vise's Victims.”
Those words echoed in the corners of mind as I stood at the end of the vault runway, staring down the vaulting table. I rolled my surgically repaired ankle around, feeling the stiffness from the scar tissue. I smoothed any flyaways around my hairline and made sure my ponytail was secure. I chalked my hands, trying to forget the memories of two years ago.
“On beam for the USA, is Laaaana Viiise!” The announcer's booming voice echoed through the stadium. It was my fourth World Championships and I was competing the all-around. The most prestigious event for an individual gymnast. The all-around champion was the Queen. She was the best in the World. I had achieved that title twice before and had finished second at the previous Olympics.
I saluted the judge, who raised a green flag, telling me to go. I nodded and stared down the springboard that was in front of the beam. I took a deep breath and hurdled into the round-off and did a full-twisting back handspring onto the beam into a back handspring, layout stepout.
“Lana is the leader going into this rotation and historically, she has been solid on this event,” The commentator's soothing voice noted. “What a lovely mount, very elegant.”
I paused, arms up and by my ears, preparing to go into my leap series. Everything was going perfectly until the Onodi. The Onodi was not a particularly hard skill but it was complex and required a lot of precision. I was to dive backwards and do a ½ twist before my hands touch the beam and do a front handspring out of it. The hardest part was the fact that I couldn't see the beam to know where to plant my hands and to walk out of it. If I was the least bit off, I would be on the mat and out of the competition.
The Onodi connected to an illusion turn were my signature skills on this event. I swung my arms and dived into the ½ turn. I reached my hands towards the beam but something was wrong. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I fell head first onto the beam. I heard a collective gasp and a laugh. I had a hunch on who the laugh came from, Kristen Johnson that bitch. I laid on the mat in a daze. I quickly got up and hopped back onto the beam, knowing that after falling, I only had 10 seconds to get back onto the beam or else I would receive a deduction. My legs felt wobbly on the beam. I only had my dismount left.
“You can do it, Lana,” I told myself, “Just stick the dismount and you still have a shot.”
I launched myself into the back handsprings, punching off the beam with all my might and I folded my body into a piked position, my hips bent and my knees straight. I pulled the two flips around as hard as I could and opened up to spot the ground. My feet met the mat and I could feel my ankle buckle from the g-forces. I grimaced but I kept my feet planted to the floor, determined not to move them. I saluted the judge again and limped off the podium to meet my coach and dad, Boris Vise. My dad pulled me into a hug.
“Dad it hurts so bad,” I was on the verge of tears. My ankle was throbbing.
“It's okay, baby. It's okay. Do you wanna do floor, still? We can still pull out of this,” he advised.
“The score for Lana Vise on beam is 14.075, putting her in third place behind Kristin Johnson and Steliana Patrascu.”
I was willing to scratch floor but I was so close to capturing the all-around title. I had to at least try. “I can do floor,” I sniffled.
“On vault, from Vise's Olympic Gymnastics Academy is Lana Vise.”
“At these Olympic Trials, the gymnasts who finish first and second get a guaranteed berth on the Olympic team,” The commentator explained.
I saluted the judge, who raised her green flag, telling me to start. I stared down the springboard and the vaulting table. I leaned forward and sprinted down the runway as fast and as controlled as I possible could. I hurdled into my round-off.
I hurdled into my round-off and I dove backwards onto the horse, planting my hands firmly and pushing off the sprung surface. I did two and a half twists into the air. Instead of planting my feet onto the mat. My butt hits first.
“Lana, you're not getting through enough on your round-off. You're high on the vault table. So what? It doesn't help you. You aren't getting enough air to complete the twists and land,” Coach yelled.
I had just gotten the 'okay' from my doctor to start training and with Nationals looming I needed to have a good showing, if I wanted to make it to Olympic trials and eventually the Olympics.
I hurdled into my round-off and I dove backwards onto the horse, planting my hands firmly and pushing off the sprung surface. I did two and a half twists into the air. I planted my feet onto the mat, but I had to take a small step from the lack of balance.
“That is the first time I have ever seen her do the vault to her feet. She has been landing on her back, her knees, and her stomach all this week in practice,” The commentator mentioned.
I smiled and saluted the judge before hopping off the podium to meet my coach.
“Good job honey. Your feet weren't as pointed and you could've done without the step but it was good. You got through on the round-off and you were right on the middle of the table. Good,” He demonstrated the landing position and the bend in my knees that I needed to stick the landing.
I nodded and strapped on my leather grips, getting ready for bars.
I stood on the blue floor exercise mat, ready to perform. All I needed to do was land on my feet and I would at least have a medal. But if I wanted gold, I would need to stick all my passes and maybe throw the upgraded passes I was working on. I had been practicing a quadruple twist, one flip with my body completely straight and four twists, a skill which no one has done before, and a full-twisting double layout, two flips with my body in the straight position with a full-twist on the first flip. Those two tumbles were considered some of the most difficult skills in gymnastics. If I did those skills, I could bring home the gold.
“Lana, finish strong,” Coach yelled from the sidelines, “Focus on the landings.”
“Lana is going to have to do the floor exercise of her life today if she wants to stay in the medals," The commentator noted
“That fall on beam looked pretty serious. I'm surprised she's even going up at all,” The female commentator mentioned.
I took my beginning pose and waited for my music to start. It came time to decide whether or not I should do the quadruple twist. My ankle was pulsating. I was dizzy and light-headed. I need to do this. I need this. I launched into the air and twisted my body around, once, twice, three times, and four but I landed on my stomach and face. I quickly got up and back into the corner. I needed to do my last pass, the full-twisting double layout. I ran and tried to generate as much speed into the tumble as possible and I launched into the air. I couldn't pull the flip around to my feet. I just didn't have the energy or the strength.
I landed on my head. I blacked out. I faintly remember hearing my music finish and the whispering of coaches and other gymnasts.
“She's done.”
“He always breaks them.”
“At least she already reached her peak.”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“His own daughter. His own daughter another one of Vise's Victims.”
Vise's Victims.
“Lana, you were extremely dehydrated. That explains why you were so dizzy and why you missed your hands on the Onodi. You fell on your head twice and you had a pretty serious concussion. The landing on your double pike dismount caused a fracture in your left ankle. It was incredibly foolish of you to have done floor. The tumbling caused the ligaments to tear and the fracture to turn into a complete break. This is where you tore the ligaments in your ankle and this is the break,” The doctor pointed to the X-ray and the MRI. “We're going to have to operate.”
My coach had a reputation for being tough and for “breaking” gymnasts. Many of his previous gymnasts had serious injuries and were forced to retire. Vise's Victims. I was now dubbed one of Vise's Victims. But I was not going to retire.
“Lana should do well on this event. The ankle will not come into a factor until the dismount.”
I stood in front of the low bar, ready to start my routine. I closed my eyes and visualized the swings and complex bar work and releases. I remember my dad's words to me before the competition started.
“Do gymnastics like you did when you were a kid. When you did it because you loved it. When you didn't want to take your leotard off and you would wear it to sleep.”
I saluted the judge and started my routine. I swung the bars like a kid on a playground. I didn't think about the competition. I didn't think about winning the all-around title. I didn't think about the injury. I didn't think about anything but having fun and enjoying myself.
I winded up into my dismount and launched into the air, doing a double twisting, double somersault. Two flips, two twists. One piece of air. I bent my knees to help absorb the shock as I landed and I stuck it cold. I saluted the judges and hopped off the podium to meet Coach.
“That was good. The dismount was spot on but your pirouettes finished a little late. For beam, I want you to start warming up.”
“The score for Lana Vise, from Vise's Gymnastics Academy, is 15.025. Putting her in fourth place going into the third rotation.”
There was some booing from the audience. The score was low in comparison to my start value. I had a start value of 16.5, which meant the judges found a little less than 1.5 points worth of deductions in my routine.
“Lana Vise just did one of the best bar sets so far and she get's a 15.025. Ridiculous!”
I did some quick math and I knew that unless I did the Onodi on beam, there was no way that I would get a score high enough to finish in 1st or 2nd, even with floor left.
I practiced my acrobatic skills on the 4-inch white line on the floor. I squeezed my eye shut. I visualized myself doing the Onodi perfectly. Taking off straight, my hands grabbing the beam, landing on one foot and going straight into an illusion turn. “Straight take off, point your toes, grab the beam,” I repeated over and over again. I did one Onodi on the white line and another. I was off on both of them and I knew that if I did them like that on the beam, I would fall. But at least I was doing it.
“Are you sure?” Coach asked after noticing me practicing the Onodi.
I nodded.
I nodded.
“You need to do the Onodi.”
I swung my arms, ready to dive into the half twist, but I couldn't. Right before I launched into the twist, I froze. The fear. The panic. I couldn't dive backwards and not see the beam. I couldn't get the image of my head crashing against the beam out.
I had watched the competition again. I barely remember much of the meet. The doctor said my amnesia was a result of my concussions. I saw what I did wrong. I had taken off crooked. I reach my hands back and to the side so I had missed the beam. I played the Onodi over and over again, vowing to never make that mistake again.
“Lana, you have to do the Onodi. Everyone in the world is getting better and you're stuck here not being able to do a skill you've been doing since you were 8. Do you want to be the best?”
“But, Daddy-”
“Other gymnasts are getting better, better than you. You want to quit. Go ahead quit.”
I hopped off the beam and stomped to face him. “It's easy for you. You have a bunch of other gymnasts waiting in the wings to come and take over my spot. They don't care about how many Vise's Victims there are because they know you can get them places. You didn't hit your head on the beam. You didn't have your ankle practically explode. You didn't have two concussions.”
The look in his eyes softened. At that moment, he was no longer Coach. He was Dad. “I don't want you to throw all your hard work away. We can take out the Onodi. Switch for something where you can see the beam, okay?”
I nodded, weakly.
I nodded and saluted the judge. I stared down the springboard that was in front of the beam. I took a deep breath and hurdled into the round-off and did a full-twisting back handspring onto the beam into a back handspring, layout stepout.
I sneaked a look at the gymnasts on the side and I saw Kristen Johnson staring at me, watching my every move. I danced getting into position for my Onodi. “Straight take-off, point your toes, grab the beam,” I repeated to myself. “Straight take-off, point your toes, grab the beam.”
I swung my arms and dived into the ½ turn. I reached my hands towards the beam. I was a little off-center but I fought to stay on the beam. I wasn't going to fall. I wasn't going to give Kristen Johnson a reason to snicker. I landed on one foot and went straight into the illusion turn. Just the dismount left. I launched into the back handsprings, gaining speed and momentum with each handspring. Punching off the beam, I lifted high in to the double pike somersault. I felt my feet meet the mat and... a stick! I threw my arms into the arm, saluting the judge. I was practically bouncing off the podium and my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.
“Amazing,” was all he said. “The Onodi was iffy but you pulled it out and fought for it, which was good. On floor, just go out there and leave it all out there. Don't give anyone a reason to question your comeback.”
I nodded, still giddy from the beam routine.
“The score for Lana Vise, from Vise's Gymnastics Academy, on beam, is a 15.466, putting her in third place behind Kristen Johnson and Rebecca Ross.”
I was walking to my bag, when Kristen Johnson bumped into me, nearly shoulder checking me into the chairs.
“Ugh, I got bitch on me,” She sneered as she kept walking.
I stretch and rolled my ankle. I fingered the scar on my ankle from the surgery.
“Lana! Bryan is here to see you!” My mother announced as I returned from training. “He's in your room.” Bryan was my boyfriend. Was for a reason.
I went to my room and saw him sitting on my bed. “Bryan what are you doing here?”
“I still love you.”
“Get out.”
“Lana. I know you still love me.”
“I can't trust you and that overrides everything. Don't you dare think that I forgot what you did to me and then you go and lie to my parents about it,” I spat. “I think I'm going to go tell them right now,” I hissed as I moved to leave.
Bryan lunged and slammed the door shut. “No you're not,” He grabbed my shoulders and pinned me against the wall.
“Ow, Bryan. That hurts,” I whimpered.
“Everything okay up there?” My mother called from her office.
“Yeah, Lana's ankle is just hurting,” Bryan called out.
“Shut up.” I snapped.
“You are such a freakin' whiner, you know? Blah blah blah you forced me blah blah,” He grabbed a pen off my desk and was grasping it so tight his knuckles turned white.
My ankle was still weak from surgery and it had given out from under me. I was now sitting on the floor.
Bryan crouched down and stroke my hair, “You think you can contradict me? I think your scar needs to be re-stitched,” He clicked the pen open and closed several times before finally clicking it open. The point dragged along my skin and stopped at the scar on my ankle.
“Bryan no- My gymnastics-”
“Do you think you give a damn about your gymnastics? It's not even a sport.”
“That's where I draw the line. You know how much my gymnastics means to me.” I struggled and flailed trying to free myself from Bryan's grasp. “Bryan. No. Stop. Please,” I begged.
“How many times have I told you.” The pen made contact with the first stitch, “Do.” He dug the pen into the scar. “Not.” Blood started trickling down my ankle. “Tell.” The first stitch snapped. “Me.”
I winced in pain and a single tear rolled down my cheek.
“What to do,” He buried the pen into the opened wound. He tossed the pen aside. The tip was covered with my blood and the air in the room smelled metallic, “I'm leaving.” He got up and walked out of my room, “I'm sorry. I can't stay for dinner,” He said sweetly to my mom.
I managed to hobble to my feet and to my father's office. “Daddy.” My ankle was dripping in blood and was staining the white carpet. “I have to tell you something about Bryan.”
“You got this Lana,” Dad yelled from the sideline as I took my position on the floor. “Leave it all on the floor.”
My music started and I did just that. I left it all on the floor. I gave floor routine of my life and I reflected on the past two years. Injury to now. I overcame a lot of agony and pain to get to this moment. To fight for a spot on the Olympic team. I wouldn't trade any of the hardships and pains I went through because it made me stronger as a person and a gymnast.
I took a deep breath before running into my last pass. The full-twisting double layout. I tried to generate as much speed into the tumble as possible and I launched into the air. This time I had the strength. I pulled the two flips around and completed the full twist. My feet met the floor and I knew. I stuck it. I did the choreography into my ending pose. I could feel the roar of the crowd as I finished.
“That was the best floor routine we've seen from anyone all year.”
I jumped off the podium and I hugged my Dad. He was Dad now. The competition was over and he was no longer Coach. He was Dad. “I think- I think that might have been enough,” He said.
“I can't breathe,” I stuttered out.
“The score for Lana Vise, from Vise's Gymanstics Academy, is a 15.625, putting her in first place ahead of Kristen Johnson and Rebecca Ross.”
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote this for a contest but I've been meaning to write a story about gymnastics for a long time. I'm a self proclaimed gymnastics freak and you can find me on the IG forum. I was going to name this Gymnastia and make it about Nastia Liukin but I thought it would be better for me to make it about my own gymnast. I was inspired by Courtney Kupets, Nastia Liukin, Svetlana Khorkina and Hollie Vise. The banner does feature a picture of Nastia Liukin doing an Onodi.I wanted it to seem more cinematic with cutaways and voice overs from the commentators. The storyline is over the top but I like it. I hope you guys liked! Please comment!