Texasmomof3
Proud Parent
Dd is level 7.
She has had a knee injury and has been sidelined all season. She competed one full meet back in January. She missed two meets completely and competed only beam and bars on two more.
The orthopedic surgeon gave her permission to compete state this weekend, as long as she could tolerate the pain. (She qualified for state at the one full meet she managed in January). He said she wouldn't be able to take the pain of jumping and landing, so no vault or floor again. Her meet was last night.
My dd is not so easily sidelined. After not vaulting or tumbling for two months due to pain, she insisted that she would compete all four events at state. If she was going, she wanted a shot at regionals.
She did not land a single vault all week in practice. Her floor was a hot mess since she could barely launch or land her tumbling and leaps. But last night she did it. She managed four routines. They were not her best, not by a long shot, but she did it.
She even medaled on floor, bars and beam and came in 7th AA (top half). Before announcing the AA scores, the announcer told them the top seven would qualify to regionals. She was ecstatic. He teammates high fived her. The coaches were hugging her. She had tears of joy. You would have thought that she won first.
After calling all the girls up, just before saying "salute," the announcer corrected that in her age division, top six qualified to regionals. Her smile froze. I watched her heart break as she stood before everyone realizing she hadn't made it after all.
What had been a Cinderella story of perseverance and hard work and making the pain all worth it suddenly was the lowest moment of her gymnastics life. For one second, she had overcome the injury and the tough bars night and finally had something good this season. But then it was all gone again. And she had to stand there and smile and salute as if she was just fine.
There was no celebration of managing a AA meet with four medals. It was the longest three hour drive home in silence. No tears. No venting. Just defeat.
Sometimes I really hate this sport.
She has had a knee injury and has been sidelined all season. She competed one full meet back in January. She missed two meets completely and competed only beam and bars on two more.
The orthopedic surgeon gave her permission to compete state this weekend, as long as she could tolerate the pain. (She qualified for state at the one full meet she managed in January). He said she wouldn't be able to take the pain of jumping and landing, so no vault or floor again. Her meet was last night.
My dd is not so easily sidelined. After not vaulting or tumbling for two months due to pain, she insisted that she would compete all four events at state. If she was going, she wanted a shot at regionals.
She did not land a single vault all week in practice. Her floor was a hot mess since she could barely launch or land her tumbling and leaps. But last night she did it. She managed four routines. They were not her best, not by a long shot, but she did it.
She even medaled on floor, bars and beam and came in 7th AA (top half). Before announcing the AA scores, the announcer told them the top seven would qualify to regionals. She was ecstatic. He teammates high fived her. The coaches were hugging her. She had tears of joy. You would have thought that she won first.
After calling all the girls up, just before saying "salute," the announcer corrected that in her age division, top six qualified to regionals. Her smile froze. I watched her heart break as she stood before everyone realizing she hadn't made it after all.
What had been a Cinderella story of perseverance and hard work and making the pain all worth it suddenly was the lowest moment of her gymnastics life. For one second, she had overcome the injury and the tough bars night and finally had something good this season. But then it was all gone again. And she had to stand there and smile and salute as if she was just fine.
There was no celebration of managing a AA meet with four medals. It was the longest three hour drive home in silence. No tears. No venting. Just defeat.
Sometimes I really hate this sport.
I'm so sorry for your daughter. I hope soon she can feel the pride of what she accomplished and not the defeat of not reaching a goal.
