Earliest Memory: Gold Medal Life
Francesca Pruitt
Though I have many great memories from my childhood, much of my upbringing was overshadowed by my love and fixation with gymnastics. From the moment I could walk, I was in the gym. I lived to walk across the balance beam, swing on the bars and run down the vault. The most vivid memories I have from my childhood are those in which I felt like I was flying, like I was unstoppable, like I was strong, driven, destine to become something bigger than myself.
My earliest memories were made in the gym, as I made some of my first ever friends in gymnastics and found a place that finally felt tailored to me. Gymnastics was the first place I felt proud of myself and experienced a sense of accomplishment.
Gymnastics is where I began the journey of discovering my own identity. After establishing my passion for athletics, I immersed myself into sports. What started as a wholesome hobby, quickly turned into a part-time job. In middle school, I joined an elite training team with the hopes of becoming a colligate athlete. At this time, I also started homeschool so that I could train for more hours during the day in addition to fitting in private lessons, physical therapy, recovery time…
Little did I know, my body would give out long before my dreams could come into fruition. A broken wrist preempted a torn hamstring, then a broken back. With much reluctance, I came to the realization my body couldn’t take the obsessive training.
Gymnastics was my entire identity, a second home at which my friends and purpose thrived. I never slept in on weekends because those were days for early a.m. cardio. I never hung out with friends after school, because I had to rush to the gym. I ate clean foods, exclusively wore sweats, wrapped my hands in tape and Band-Aids every morning, soaked in Epson salt every night, and used cars as a bed, changing room, diner, study hall, and the one time a day I got to see my dad. My sense of normal life was skewed.
What now? If I was not a gymnast, who was I? Terrified to re-emerge into main stream life, I wondered, what have I missed during all those years when gymnastics was my one and only focus? I had filled all my time, effort, and brain with efforts of becoming a professional athlete, so much so, that I did not know who I was, nor who I wanted to be.
I was beyond ashamed by the lack of connection I felt with my peers and a sense as though I was so far behind everyone else. I dreaded trying new things and being a novice because I knew I had to start from the ground up — become a beginner when all I had ever strove to be was the best.
I returned to normal school, reconnected with friends, and began trying to find new things to fill 30+ hours a week. I enrolled in every sport I could, started cooking, joined clubs, fostered animals, and got involved in my community. As I conjured up new dreams, I realized my gymnastics passion had kept me from so many opportunities. I started to realize that weakness is not found in novelty or inferiority, nor quitting, but rather the strength one finds in themself to reach into the unknown and embrace every mishap along the way.
I realized that gymnastics was no longer serving me long before I quit, and I now understand that my reluctance in quitting stemmed from my fears that I had no strength nor talent to bring into the world without it.
When I read Sister Outsider by Audrey Lorde, her writing about “the transformation of silence and language into action” deeply resonated with me. Lorde describes the silence and resistance individuals experience as a result of their fears or failure, rejection, scrutiny, or even fear itself. Lorde goes onto explain how language is a catalyst for change and that no one can make a difference in the world, or themselves if they do not utilize the infinite power of their words and take action despite fear.
Lorde states: “And I began to recognize a source of power within myself that comes from the knowledge that while it is most desirable not to be afraid, learning to put fear into a perspective gave me strength” (Sister Outsider, Audrey Lorde).
Once I was able to view myself in the image of WHO I am, rather than WHAT I am or DO, I found power and confidence in my abilities as a person. As Lorde states, “learning to put fear into perspective gave me strength.” I recognized the irrationality in my fears of reestablishing my identity and in doing so, I found my voice, in addition to a girl who was much stronger than she ever thought she could be (… although she could not nearly do as many pushups as she used to).
Quitting did not make me a quitter.
Gymnastics taught hard work, perseverance, teamwork and mental toughness. Those traits are deeply instilled in my being and provide me with insight I use daily. However, quitting taught me even more. I now know the importance of having many passions. Instead of being an individual competitor, I am a friend, a leader, an activist, and a scholar. I love approaching life with an open mind and an explorer’s heart, accepting change, and embracing my personality and passions without judgment or a simple score.
When my life flipped upside down, I didn’t stick the landing, but I did find a gold medal life.
gold medal brain > gold medal body