Literally.
Fear challenged courage. It challenged the mind. Once we found courage, it meant never looking back. It persevered and defied. It gave strength to conquer the obstacles that rendered one weak.
Successful people fought for what they wanted, what they desired in life no matter what they were up against. Willpower was key, and maybe if I turned my fear into desire, it would override my anxiety. It was the only way to escape the emotion.
I knew I needed to practice what I preached, but it was easier said than done. As was everything. I’d rather train for a new tumbling sequence with front flips, or Level E release moves and bar changes before jumping on beam.
I hated beam. Dreaded it. It was the one event I needed the most work on. I feared the four-inch piece of wood like it had the ability to incapacitate me. But only I could do that.
When I was a child, my dad surprised me with a small, low balance beam for Christmas one year. My fear of the beam started early and I hardly used it. This fear I created in the front of my mind was hard to break. Balancing on a piece of wood that was four feet off the ground didn’t sound like much, but when you factor in leaps or turns while balancing on the tips of your toes—let’s not forget the back-flips and full-twists with blind landings on a four-inch width—yeah, good luck.
Then try sticking it without straddling the beam and slamming down on your crotch and getting beam burn. That’s what I called it, beam burn. It was like rug burn, but from the balance beam. It looked and felt the same. Hurt like a bitch from my inner thighs to my crotch. I’d fallen so hard in the past I actually bled.
It was literally like getting smacked with a piece of wood between your legs. Talk about excruciating pain.
“Come on, Adrianna,” Kova groaned, while I wobbled on the beam after landing a double switch leap.
He almost sounded defeated. Again, I jumped off one foot, split my legs as far apart as possible, then switched them quickly so that the leg that was in the front ended up in the back. Once I landed, I took one step, and did it again. After landing quickly—wobble free—it required a full twist.
“Your hips are leaning forward which is why you are taking the extra step at the end! Do it again but without the turn!” Kova ordered, and my heart started to race. “
Relevé
your foot so you are up on your toes and bring your shoulders back before you leap!” He slapped the back of his hand into his palm to get his point across.
It was my stupid fear, even after years of practicing, that I was going to fall.
Stepping into the jump, Kova yelled, “Square your hips so they are centered over the beam!” I dropped my arms and looked at him. He was livid, past the point of angry and ready to move into seething with fury. The team girls stared at me and I was embarrassed. I chewed my bottom lip as I watched his expression turn darker while the fire in his eyes seared my skin.
“I told you to
relevé
into it first! My accent may be strong, but I know you understand what I am saying. Or did you forget that in dance already? Slowly lift your back heel before stepping into the leap. Do it again. And with some damn grace. You look like you are jumping on a trampoline.”
He may be hot as hell, and I may have wanted to lick and slap him at the same time, but he could be a complete asshole. Kova muttered something in Russian. He was in rare form today. I had no idea what his deal was. I wish I had some knowledge of the language so then I’d know what he was saying.
I leaped again, but was shaky on the landing. I think I bent my legs too. I was second guessing myself and could feel how off-kilter I was. Kova made me nervous, and his constant yelling was affecting my performance. I hated today. I hated beam. And damn it, this was one of those moments where I wanted to quit altogether.
If I didn’t get my nerves under control, I could critically injure myself.
“Tuck in your hips and tighten your stomach. Your chest will stay up and therefore your split will be wider. What part of that do you not get?”
“I’m trying, Coach.”
He cracked his neck, sharply twisting it from side to side. The sound made me cringe. “If you were trying, you would do it the correct way. You are not trying hard enough.”
Gritting my teeth, I said, “Yes. I. Am,” enunciating each word. “You think I like messing up and having you yell at me?” I said out loud. I
was
trying, I was just doing a shitty job.
Sarah paused on the beam next to me, her arms slowly fell to her sides as Kova stood stock still. His eyes were wild, huge, and the vein in his neck noticeably pulsed. Fear streamed through me, which was only felt tenfold because I could feel my teammates’ as well. I was legitimately frightened of my coach.
And I was quite sure he was about to strangle me.
“I am going to pretend I did not just hear that,” he said, his voice low and controlled.
Flexibility has never been my strong suit, or keeping my mouth shut apparently, which was why I had difficulty with jumps sometimes. My legs did not split like they should. Lots of gymnasts suffered from inflexibility—it didn’t come with the nature of the sport. Gymnastics builds muscle, which in turn hinders flexibility. It was a vicious cycle to find a balance. Typically, gymnasts who are good on vault and floor, often times find beam isn’t their strongest suit.
People automatically assumed being a gymnast meant being able to flip into a pretzel at any given moment. It was quite the opposite. Long hours of manipulating your body at odd angles did it. Bending, flipping, and twisting, I could do. But my legs and my back did not curve the way some of these girls did. It was unnatural, but still, I strived for it.
“Jump down,” he sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Adrianna, you have to lift that leg up higher. And stop shaking up there, you look like a leaf blowing on a tree,” he spit angrily. “Here, do it on the low beam first.”
A leaf blowing on a tree...I let that one pass. He’s Russian after all.
I leaped again, splitting my legs wider, but this time when I looked back at him, he looked puzzled.
“I do not think you are squaring your hips.” He placed his jaw in his hand. “No, that cannot be right...”
This had to be some sort of joke. I knew how to square my hips.
“It is either that, or you lack more flexibility than I thought, which would explain why your jumps look like shit,” he muttered to himself. He went from veins-in-his-neck screaming to quiet and pondering. “But you are still not hitting that one hundred and eighty degree split.” He stared at me intently, his brows angled deep toward each other while rubbing his jaw. “Go into the dance room and do split jumps in front of the mirror. I will be there shortly.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and nodded, making my way into the dance room. There was a piece of long white tape perpendicular to the mirror. I stood on it and began doing split jumps, making sure to land on the make shift balance beam. I watched my body closely. My hips looked squared, but Kova was right. It didn’t look like I was hitting the split all the way.
I wasn’t sure how long I was in the dance room for or how many split jumps I completed by the time Kova walked in. He studied my jumps through critical eyes. I didn’t ask questions and I didn’t stop until my legs felt like rubber. Kova strutted over to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes, radiating confidence into me.
“Focus. Take a deep breath and exhale,” he paused. “A quiet and controlled breath, Ria. Like I taught you.” His palms warmed my shoulders as he massaged them to loosen me up.
“Shoulders back,” he pushed my shoulders back which brought my chest forward. “Chest out,” he dipped his chin in approval. “Like that.” He grasped the sides of my jaw and said, “Chin up.” I nodded. Before I could turn back to face the mirror, his knuckles slid beneath my jaw and danced across my throat seductively. A shiver broke out on my arms and his eyes darkened. “Perfect.” He dropped his hands and I turned around to prepare for another jump. Kova came up behind me and repeated the movements, his eyes never leaving mine. He stood so close his clothes brushed against my tepid skin. Once I was standing how he wanted me, he placed his hands on my hips, the tips of his fingers searing my bikini line as he pressed deeper to make sure my hips were square. His nearness caused my heart to thump wildly against my chest. He’d never been this daring before, this forward, and truth be told, I welcomed it.
“You see how you are standing? This is how you prepare before you leap.” His breath accelerated. The tips of his fingers curved down and brushed my ass, dangerously low. Goose bumps immediately broke out across my skin and I was sure he felt them as his hands lingered evocatively, causing a rush of wetness to surge through me. A low, deep groan reverberated in the back of his throat, but I’d heard it before he stepped back. Kova gave me a slight nod and I forced my racing heart to get under control. I executed a split jump, which ended up looking much better this time.
“Beautiful,” he said quietly, looking into my eyes through the mirror. It was so hard for me not to smile over his approval. “Again.” With a nod of his head, he ordered me to perform the skill multiple times. My legs split higher, more gracefully, but more importantly, correctly.
At this point I was out of breath from doing them repeatedly. I waited for his next order with burning thighs while balancing on the balls of my feet. His incredibly handsome poker face was hard to read.
“Back to the beam.”
Once we were back, I chalked up my feet and headed to the beam. I gripped it between my hands and jumped, feeling my thighs rub against the suede before I stood tall. I performed about a dozen split jumps perfectly before I moved on. Kova seemed pleased with me. I tapped the beam with a pointed toe and then stepped into the leap. I landed, slightly shaky and saved it, but I knew Coach saw it. He never missed a beat. His eyes narrowed to slits and I felt them inching up my body until they met my eyes. I exhaled a low and steady breath and waited for what he had to say.
“Adrianna, you should be able to land your leap on the beam if you can do it on the white tape. Get it right.”
I blinked my eyes, abruptly feeling light headed. It’d been hours since I’d eaten. My lunch had been light, not wanting to work out on a full belly. And since I was at the gym for hours, half the time I was starving. After I finished on beam though, I planned to eat my protein bar to hold me over until practice was over.
I wanted to impress my coach and show him I was worthy of being here, but with him riding my back over a stupid leap, along with my gnawing hunger, I was stressing out big time.
“While I am young, Adrianna.” He clapped twice. We were back to Adrianna. “Get moving. Ten more.”
I gulped, then completed the leap eleven more times instead of ten. My legs were rubbery and I began to feel nauseous. I was training on an empty stomach with a barking coach in my ear.
On one of the jumps, I came down with shaky legs. My arms and legs went out to the sides just a little to balance myself. I tried to make it flow into a pose to cover it up, but any coach with a sharp eye would spot it immediately.
I wasn’t sure why I even tried to hide it from Kova.
“Lock your leg, Adrianna,” he gritted, his eyes were drilling holes into my head.
Coach dropped his head. Running a hand through his hair, he pulled at his scalp. Snapping his head up, he turned to the bars and yelled, “Reagan! Over here! Now!”
Great. My biggest fan was coming over to show me up.
“Yes, Coach,” she said with a syrupy voice. It made me want to dry heave.
“Get up there and show Adrianna how a switch leap is done.”
She smiled and said, “No problem, Coach.”
I hoped she fell. On her face.
Turning toward me with her back to Kova, a conniving, small grin tugged at her knowing face. I couldn’t help but want to smack her for it. I wasn’t an aggressive kind of person, but she really knew how to get under my skin like no other.
Reagan jumped up on the beam and naturally landed a perfect leap. Of course she did. Balance beam was her favorite event, one she excelled at. Even though I couldn’t stand to look at her at times, she really had skill.
Kova dipped his chin in approval before saying, “Do it again, but this time make sure you are watching, Adrianna.”
Reagan landed a beautiful leap, as if she was born to do it. “Thank you, Reagan. You can go back to bars.”
“Yes, sir.” She hopped down and looked over her shoulder at me, grinning.
My patience was wearing thin. I was starving, tired, and I had a bitch on my team I shouldn’t even care about who would love to see me fail.
“Don’t fall, Ana,” she whispered as she glided past, patting me on the shoulder.
The urge to stick my foot out and trip her, then kick her in her pinched face was stronger than ever.
Coach looked at me expectantly. I jumped on the beam and focused on the end of it, but I could feel someone’s burning gaze on me. I refused to look up. I chewed the inside of my lip. I couldn’t mess this one up, I just couldn’t.
I got this, I got this, I got this
, I chanted to myself. I
had
it.
Shaking out my fingers, I exhaled into the jump. Just as I was about to land, I could tell my body was off balance. I just knew—like a gut instinct, sixth sense sort of thing—I was off-kilter.