Don't Let the Fall Define You

My daughter competed as a gymnast for most of her formative years. I spent countless hours watching her practice and perform at gymnastic meets all over the countryside. I remember cringing watching her flip and turn, wondering if one of her maneuvers was going to go awry for her and a lasting injury would result. Gymnastics is an art form more than it is a sport. Gymnasts train their bodies and minds to overcome what seems to be insurmountable feats of strength, and they train long and hard to accomplish what seems to be impossible for the average human. But they train in this manner because it is required if they want to excel in the sport. Gymnastics requires a level of dedication as a sport which surpasses all other sports in the amount of mental tenacity and dexterity it builds.

I wasn’t always the textbook gym parent, as the best way to motivate my daughter a lot of time meant that I pushed her in unconventional ways. She was a stubborn gymnast and often would try and test her coaches, but in the end, she led her team in a lot of ways because she was tough, hard-headed, and took on a big sister role to her fellow gymnasts. Bless her coaches for their patience and understanding and recognition of my daughter’s ability to lead. We have crazy stories of how we would push her out on the gym floor at a meet and tell her to “suck it up cupcake, get out there and earn our love.” We did get some funny looks from other parents, and sideways glances, but these offhand comments were a joke in between us. Every time we would say those famous words to her, she would just laugh and all the nerves would shake off quickly. She knew we never meant those words, but they calmed her down somehow and made her giggle before she would get out on the floor or apparatus to perform.

 I’ll never forget one competition, it was the state competition for the year, when she took a bad fall on her dismount off the balance beam. She landed badly on her foot and turned her ankle and knee in a weird direction. At first, we just yelled, “hey girl, get up, you’ve got this.” Then we realized things weren’t ok when she turned into the stands with tears in her eyes and crumpled up on the floor. I immediately raced down to the floor, and fought my way through the coaches and other gymnasts to be there for my daughter and help her up off of the floor. Heading into this event, she was at the top of her game. She had scored higher than she ever had the entire season on her 3 events, and she had even landed her dismount off the beam properly before she fell to the floor from the injury. As I carried her hopping off the mat to a chair, she just looked at me with determination in her eyes and said, "I have to finish.” I looked at her ankle and the coaches came over, and we realized that may not be a possibility. But this child, with all of the gumption and fire she had in her soul, said again “I’m going to finish my last event.” There were no broken bones, but she had an obvious sprain, and I wasn’t sure this was the best choice for her, but as a parent who understood the stubbornness and resolve which laid inside of this child, I asked her coach if she thought she could finish. Her last event was the floor, and she had a complicated maneuver at the end of her routine which would require her to land properly. My daughter said to me and her coach, “tape me up, I’m going out there.”

Now, all of you are probably questioning my parenting skills here, but let me finish before you make a judgment. There is a certain tenacity that pours out of individuals in the sport of gymnastics, and it’s a life lesson for all of us on the power of human will. So with my heart beating hard in my chest, I agreed to let my daughter continue in the competition. The floor music started, and I held my breath for most of her routine and gripped her father’s hand.

My daughter was triumphant in that moment. She scored a 10.0 on her floor routine, and she won the state competition for her age bracket. And her sprain healed quickly, and didn’t leave any lasting injury for her. She pushed through a mental and physical barrier which was difficult and challenging, and learned a powerful lesson. She learned that despite those times when we don’t land perfectly, and we take a fall, we can get back up and keep moving, but we must be willing to try. Had she made the choice to not compete in her last event, I would not have questioned her decision one bit, nor would I have forced her to compete. To me, this was her decision to make. She knew her body, she knew her limits, and she knew she would overcome them. She was having her Kerri Strug Olympic moment, and I wasn’t going to stop her from trying. That moment in my daughter’s gymnastics career was short-lived, but it left a lasting impression on me as a person about setbacks and challenges in our lives.

We often take bad falls. We don’t stick every landing. We slip, we stumble, we make mistakes. Sometimes we fly off the high bar and land flat on our back. Sometimes we slip off the beam and must redo our routine. Sometimes we fall out of bounds on our floor routine and receive a deduction. Sometimes we run as fast as we can towards the vault, and we stop before the launch because we are afraid. Sometimes we don’t keep up with the other gymnasts that are around us and their skills surpass ours. But those mistakes, falls and injuries can be overcome, if we are willing to dig deep and find something inside of ourselves which is stronger than the fear that tries to push us away from trying again. As Gabby Douglas said, “Hard days are the best, because that’s when champions are made.”  

Those aren’t easy lessons to learn, even as adults. They are even more difficult lessons to learn when the bounce sideways, or the fall, seems to be something which is beyond our control. We often blame our own failings, or some character flaw for these life events: job loss, company restructuring, a bad interview, a misspoken word to the wrong person, a faux pas in a company meeting. But here’s the thing. Life has a lot of letdowns and circumstances which can either throw us into a tailspin if we allow them to, or they can be a rebounding moment, a moment of triumph. Our present fall isn’t a permanent condition from which cannot recover, it’s just a moment to gather ourselves, and our strength of will, and step into the next event with courage and a smile. I like to call those Kerri Strug Olympic gold medal moments when despite the pain of a bad fall, we get up and we keep moving.

What we need to remember is that we can allow these moments to defeat us or define us as people. But they only define us if we are willing stretch ourselves and make the fall a moment of recognition and renewal. Dwelling on the fall only gives birth to prolonged agony versus great opportunity. Doors open up for us when we make the decision to get back on our feet, make our mark and stick the landing. So you have to ask yourself, are you willing to go the distance when you fall? Are you willing to risk what might happen if you step out on the floor and keep going? Are you willing to step beyond the fear of what might happen and make the choice to MAKE what you want happen?

It’s never an easy decision. It requires mental fortitude and strength and courage, and those things aren’t always easy to muster when you are feeling down about the misstep you may have made. Those steps require you to take a moment, breathe, and realize that yes, you can keep going. They also sometimes require an accountability partner who is willing to push you in the right direction, and yell at you as you step on the floor,  to “suck it up cupcake, get out there and earn my love.” Find those people in your life who will push you, and rely on them when you get into the tough places in your life, where it seems like you can’t get back up again.

From all of your setbacks, failures, missteps, mistakes, you can build incredible resilience, but only if you realize that those moments are there to push you, to train you, to build you into a powerful human being. Earning that perfect 10 doesn’t come from walking away when you slip and fall. It comes from willing yourself to keep flipping even when things aren’t just perfect or right.

If you don’t leap, you’ll never learn to fly. Greatness isn’t born, it’s made, through all the tough times, the challenges, the falls, and the mistakes. We just have to get up and keep trying.