He somersaults out of bed. Front folds into sofa. Springs in the hallway. My 7-year-old daughter’s life has been completely dominated by gymnastics and her hero, Simone Biles.
“I want to be like her and go to the Olympics when I grow up,” she told me on Monday, her hands imitating Biles’s gestures. “She does cool moves and dance moves. But she works hard.”
With Biles poised to bring home more medals from Paris, her Olympic performances this week are by far the most important to watch in our house. Her every move has a profound impact on my daughter’s journey in sports, as if she could be one of her coaches. As I watch her fingers slide back and forth on her iPad to see the slow motion of Biles executing moves that have upended the norms of women’s gymnastics on a global scale, many with her nameI’m amazed at her commitment to being like Biles, who discovered gymnastics at age 6.
But on Sunday, when Biles injured her left calf muscle while warming up for a floor exercise routine, I winced along with most of America, afraid that her historic run could be over in an instant. My daughter, however, was much calmer.
“I love tough days,” she said, with no doubt that Biles would achieve the day’s highest scores. I’ve become accustomed to this confidence, having seen my daughter cry during her vault warm-up, her “worst event,” only to win gold at regional and national competitions.
His confidence still gives me some hesitation, however, just because it developed so quickly.
First signs
Three years ago, I realized for the first time that my daughter had potential as a gymnast. After spending most of ballet class doing somersaults, we traded her tutu for a gymnastics leotard, and during her first formal class, the coach asked me if she would be interested in moving to a more advanced level. Before I knew it, we had joined a gymnastics club in Atlanta and I was promptly informed by the coach that her skills were “exceptional.”
Soon, my friends gave her a nickname, “Baby Biles,” and she finished her first season by winning first place on vault and floor exercise at a national competition.
She now calls gymnastics her “gift,” and I have to keep reminding myself that she is only 7 years old. The truth is, I’ve been nervous about my son’s physical abilities since he left his crib at 9 months. At age 2, she jumped out of bed to try to fall into an open drawer, hitting her head on a metal doorknob and needing three stitches. At age 3, a scared teacher had to explain to me how she jumped out of her playpen and broke her elbow, an injury that required surgery.
New bales
The work ethic required to become good at a gravity-defying sport is no small feat – for both the young athlete and their parents. There are the daily workouts, the trips to and from the gym, the daily emails from your fitness club, the trips to meetings across the country.
The financial costs involved were significant enough to make me reconsider whether it’s worth it. The fees are endless: monthly fees, thousands to cover costs incurred at meetings, organizational fees, coaches’ salaries and more. In just one year of competition, we have spent our savings more times than we would like to admit.
Our entire family – including our daughter’s two brothers – made sacrifices, including fewer shared meals. When my daughter gets home after a three and a half hour workout at 8:30 p.m., she goes straight to the shower and then to bed.
As a mother, it’s especially difficult. I can’t stop training to kiss her bloody calluses because she is now a competitive athlete who is being trained to endure this pain. I get anxious when I think that my little baby might one day let me live in another state to train with a renowned trainer or at a famous gym, as is so common among the best gymnastics aspirants. Normal educational routines have already been disrupted due to the demands of practice, and her new coach has mentioned bringing in a tutor to maximize the time she can spend in the gym.
When training demands increased, Simone Biles was homeschooled during her high school years, as I learned while helping my daughter with her black history project in first grade. The poster she made that accompanied her report said: “Simone Biles, the greatest gymnast of all time.” We also learned that Biles was diagnosed early on with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and used gymnastics as a way to help stabilize it.
“I’m easily distracted, but gymnastics helps me focus,” my daughter told me when I asked about similar attention challenges she and Biles might face. “Whenever I do my dances or somersaults, my mind is thinking about how tense I must be. I also have to listen to my coaches. But when I don’t go to the gym, I’m all over the place.”
It’s statements like this that help me calm my own fears, but it’s also seeing the pride she feels in the more than 30 medals that are displayed on the walls of her room and the smile on her face when I pick her up from training.
So we’ll be watching Simone Biles this week not just as fans, but as fellow competitors and, perhaps one day, other Olympians.
