by Sophia Maurizi (7d)
It was a Sunday morning when it happened. I was waiting for my extra-training. A cool breeze blew my hair out of my face, and the chilly air pricked my skin like a thousand needles. But I didn’t mind. I just pulled my coat tighter around me and crossed my arms over my chest. When my coach finally realized I’d been standing outside for 10 minutes, she came out and opened the door.
– You should have rung Sophia! she said as I came inside and shivered.
– I did, five times! I replied and smiled a little seeing her shocked expression.
– Well, you’re a little early. She said changing the subject.
– Yes I know, I’m sorry, my parents couldn’t bring me any later. I said.
Manu, my coach, guided me to the changing rooms where I got changed. About 20 minutes later we started.
Our warm- up consisted of 30 minutes of running, jumping, ab exercises and flexibility. Many people also refer to it as pure torture and child abuse. But I was too excited by our gymnasium.
Our extra-trainings were rare so I was always surprised by our gymnasium: nine beams- big, small, and medium. Five or six sets of bars, two american gym floors, three vaults, three extremely bouncy trampolines, and about a hundred of the softest mats in the world.
We started with beam. Which was fine by me. Beam was actually one of my favorites. I knew the drill. I started practicing on the small beam, prepping for cartwheels and handstands.
When I felt comfortable enough, I grabbed one of the soft plushy green mats and placed it under the tall beam so I’d be able to get up.
I took a moment to feel the smooth wood underneath my feet. I visualized the perfect exercise. Placing my hands on the beam, kicking my legs up and over me, looking carefully to see the beam and landing on my foot. I landed well and did a few more.
I was proud of myself enough not to notice the girls trying back-walkovers. I stopped looking at them and focused on myself. I took a deep breath and continued. But this time I didn’t know disaster would strike.
I kicked up my legs, when suddenly an ear piercing scream hit me like a wrecking ball. I looked over my shoulder to see.
Oh, false alarm! The tall blond girl doing back-walkovers had just managed on her own without falling face first. I rolled my eyes, momentarily forgetting I was still balancing on my hands.
I tried to regain my focus, but it was too late. My wrist twisted uncomfortably, sending me at the wrong angle. My thigh scraped against the wood as my body banged on the floor missing the mats by an inch. My twisted wrist landed under me causing an unbelievable pain. And due to my clumsiness, as I got up clutching my wrist I hit my head against the beam, stumbled on the mats and equipment that came tumbling down on my ankle.
– I’m alright! I breathed from underneath the mats, as a crowd of gymnasts gathered around me asking me if I was hurt.
A sprained wrist, a twisted ankle and an unhealthy fear of the beam that lasted three months, proved me I was wrong.
But hey, it’s three months later and …. Guess who’s working on back-walkovers?
The Update 