The Day that Came

I never thought that this day would come. The musky air of the gym,the laughing of the girls,the chalky hands,the unbearable pain that I somehow seemed to live through. Thirteen years in the making. It had become part of me,but I was still left with this decision. Is enough enough? Two bad knees,faulty wrists,aching ankles,teared up palms,bruised legs,and one pulled lower back. The decision should be obvious. It was time to throw in the towel. Thirteen years of injuries scarred my body and reminded me what my life has been consumed of since I was two years old. The captivating,yet painful sport of gymnastics. I longed for a social life and endless days of relaxing. I thought I knew what I wanted...to quit gymnastics.

Decisions like these aren’t easy,people always asking...”do you do gymnastics still?” Having to answer no was heartbreaking. How could thirteen years of sweat,blood and tears end up like this? A washed-up gymnast with nothing to show for it. No level 8 regionals,no elite gymnastics,no olympics. Have these years been wasted? I was extremely capable of doing all of those things,but does there come a point when you settle for good enough and stop trying to be great? A collection of ribbons,medals,and trophies now sit in a box; no longer displayed throughout my room. They were just too painful to look at. They were too much of a reminder of who I used to be and what I used to do. But in my mind,they were a reminder of how I had failed. I failed my coaches,my parents,my family,my friends...myself.





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