Letters to a Young Gymnast Read Online Free PDF

competitors . . . but the drums inside me thrummed to a different beat. Standing up there, watching my country’s flag rise, I felt pride, but even at a young age, my mind always replayed my performance and looked for holes, mistakes, opportunities to do better.

    My friend, you think it is all about glory, but you are wrong. Winning is intensely personal in a way that might not make sense to you. What did I know about glory when I was ten? To me, competing was about the next time and the next and then the one after that. It was about improving my body and mind—overcoming frustrations, anger, and jealousy so that, in one shining moment, my body became a tool driven by unwavering concentration and desire.
    After the Friendship Cup, my goal was simply to improve as a gymnast. For the next three years, there was nothing I wouldn’t try, and I grew stronger, more focused, and more powerful with each day, month, and year. That is not to say that I didn’t have setbacks or difficulties learning new skills or that I won every competition. But there was nothing I didn’t want to learn, and that set me free to accomplish my goal. The power of a youngster is a thousand times stronger than that of an adult because there are no perceived boundaries for the child. I will tell you the story of the 1975 European Championships in Norway and let you see for yourself.
    Originally, the Romanian Gymnastics Federation did not plan to send any of the Onesti gymnasts to the European Championships in Norway. There was another gymnastics club in Romania called Club Dinamo, which had a lot of money behind it and, consequently, a great program and very talented gymnasts. The federation usually chose Dinamo’s gymnasts (because they had a history of good results) for important competitions, even after our school’s girls began to shine brighter than theirs. When it was announced that three gymnasts would compete in Norway, all three came from Club Dinamo.

    Bela refused to accept the federation’s initial decision: The championship was too important. Only one year before the Olympics, it was an opportunity to attract international attention, which is vital if a gymnast wants to be scored to her fullest potential. Only gymnasts who make names for themselves garner enough attention to impress upon the judges that they are worthy of watching and of receiving high scores and even medals. Think about Olympic figure skating. I imagine that you recognize the names of the top three women in that sport. Medal-winning athletes just don’t appear out of thin air; they are written and read about and watched. That is not to say that the athletes who receive the most attention aren’t the best in their sports, but being a great athlete will not bring medals unless you are also noticed by the world.
    In 1975, Bela turned to officials at the Ministry of Education (which funded our school), and together, they figured out a way to get one of the gymnasts from our team to Norway—they created an alternate position. That meant three girls from Dinamo and one of us would be sent. But who was going to go? This is where frustration and jealousy and the power of a child to master her emotions come into play. In 1975, Dorina was the best gymnast on our team. She had joined our school months earlier, and I immediately knew that she was good, very good. We became friends, but we were also rivals. Bela purposefully put Dorina and me together during practices, trips, and meets because he realized we both liked the competition and that it fueled us.
    The day Bela announced that we’d have an interclub meet to decide which of his gymnasts would attend the European Championships, I knew the choice was between
Dorina and me. All I can say is that on that day, I truly began to fly as a gymnast. Despite the fact that Bela was almost certain Dorina would win and consequently be the one attending the competition, I was in great form that day.