If you know me, you know that I am about 0 percent athletic. I have zero hand-eye coordination and can run for approximately eight seconds before passing out in a pool of my own blood. But believe it or not, there was a time in my life when I was an athlete, and a pretty good one at that.
If you were to look back about four years into my past, you would see a very different Kelsey. You would see the gymnast I used to be. You would see me attending three hour practices, peeling the callouses off my palms, and gluing my hair back with about 6,000 bobby-pins. I say the "gymnast I used to be" because I've never liked the phrase "once a gymnast, always a gymnast." Being gymnast is a title you have to wake up and earn every single day; I have ceased making the sacrifices necessary to keep that title, so I have given it up. That's not who I am anymore. It was once my entire self, but I have since left that behind. And that's okay. I have no regrets about my years in this sport. It gave me amazing memories and lessons that I will take with me forever.
I learned to fight for everything; the things that are worth doing are hard. I fought for impossible tricks. I fought for stuck landings and perfectly pointed hard. Nothing came easy for me, but I kept fighting. And when I got that impossible trick and stuck that final landing, it was that much sweeter for the fighting I had done. I was able to stand tall and reflect on how far I had come.
It was gymnastics that taught me that drive and compassion are not mutually exclusive. Gymnastics is something of a team sport and an individual sport mashed together. You want your team to do well as a whole, but you want to be the one standing on top of that podium. As much as you want to win, we were taught to not want others to fail. You don't want to see anyone fall, it's heartbreaking. There's a camaraderie among gymnasts that allowed me to care about my teammates, and best friends, so deeply while wanting to win for myself—the balance between the two ideas is key.
Gymnastics instilled in me the belief that perfection doesn't exist, but we can strive for it. Chasing perfection is the very basis for this sport. And gymnasts learn quickly, that you can never be perfect; it is an Earth shattering lesson to learn. You live and die by numbers that reflect every little thing you've done wrong. But as the dust clears, you see your friends hugging you and congratulating you, the judges rewarding you for what you did well, your coaches telling you that they're proud. It is that moment that you realize that sure, perfection is impossible, but this right here is enough.
The most important lesson I learned from gymnastics is probably the most cliche; after a fall you must get up. Falling is the first thing a gymnast does. Buzz Lightyear would probably call gymnastics "falling with style." The falls can be bone breaking, muscle tearing or heart wrenching, but after each and every one you must get back up. You can swallow the pain long enough to finish. You will hold your head high and pull yourself off the ground with grace. And you will show everyone that the world has not beaten you, and it never will.
Gymnastics is a special sport, for those who have done it you can understand. I will never again be a gymnast, but I will keep the spirit of the gym in my heart for the rest of my life.
*This article is dedicated to North Canton YMCA gymnastics. A very special thanks to that place, those girls, and that team. You are my heroes. Let's go NC!**
