Amanda and Elaine Dai are sisters and competitive rhythmic gymnasts who train at Rhythmic Dreams in Newton, Massachusetts. "Rhythmic Diaries" is their account of balancing training and competing in this rigorous sport with being normal high school students.
The weight of uncertainty sags heavily against my shoulders as I remove my clubs from my gym bag. I change into my white leotard before taking my clubs and walking unsurely onto the carpet. Although it's regionals and there is no pressure to qualify for anything, I still find myself lacking the determination I need to perform well. During recent competitions I have been doing strong clubs routines, but I know past performances do not warrant that today will go smoothly.
But you won't get any more confident if you just stand here, I scold myself as I snap back to reality. I recall the mock competitions two weeks ago and think: Just have fun. But this isn't just another 'fun' competition.
I finally begin to practice my routine with forced optimism, smiling as genuinely as I can even though I'm still shaking on the inside. When I make a mistake, I push myself to continue with encouraging thoughts and keep my focus trained on what I'm doing. As I go through my routine again and again, my feigned optimism begins to transform into bona fide confidence. I amplify my movements, sharpen my expression and enjoy myself as I practice. When my coach tells me to stretch a little before my turn, I'm surprised that time has passed so quickly. Without hesitation I set up two chairs and begin to do over-splits. I hadn't noticed that I'd gotten so sore, as I'm taken aback when pain rips through my hamstrings and up my back hip.
No, stay down, I think, scowling at my intolerance towards pain, you're stiff; just think of how your elements will improve after this. I bite my bottom lip, hoping to distract myself from the pain in my legs, but my efforts are in vain. How I wish the pain would lessen! I close my eyes and desperately wish time would move faster. The moment I think this, an image of Oogway, the venerated, sage turtle from Kung Fu Panda, conjures in my mind. I see him approach, wooden staff in hand, and lean in to say: "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift! That is why it is called the 'present.'"
The present. The present a present? How can I enjoy it, with this much pain?
No, you cannot complain, I order myself. Look around -- everyone is experiencing the same pain. I scan the carpet; girls dive for their apparatus, stretch in over-splits, practice an element over and over again. I feel determination seep into me. I can do this, I think. The pain in my legs subsides a bit, so I pull myself lower in over-splits until I hover an inch away from the ground. The burning in my legs increases, but this time I simply close my eyes and think about how much the pain will help my flexibility.
This time I'm in the present, and I'm enjoying every second of it.