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After I completed my warm-up, my nerves were a little jittery. I stood in line retightening my grips for no good reason with a racing heart. Kova had been right, every skill I did had felt different and I absolutely had to make some changes. My swing gave more, and my heart splattered to the ground a few times when I released. I knew it wasn't the best warm-up and that Kova would not be pleased, but I couldn't think about that right now. I didn't look in his direction, even though he was probably waiting for me to look for him. I just stared at the floor and visualized what I'd just done. I had to get in tune with my body and think about where I would make minor adjustments.
I needed to calm my stressed nerves.
The biggest issue would be timing. Timing was everything and I needed to adjust it just right for the routine to be executed properly.
Just as I was about to go my last time, Kova pulled me aside.
"What are you doing?" I shrieked in a whisper. "I'm going to miss my turn!"
It'd been drilled into our heads that everything was on a strict schedule and there would be no exceptions made. I seriously couldn't afford to lose my spot.
Kova placed his hands on my shoulders and calmed me with his touch. Looking directly into my eyes, he said determinedly but with a touch of tenderness, "Do not crack. You got that? Do. Not. Crack." I bit my lip.
After a full year of working so closely together, he knew when the weight of the moment got to me.
"I can see it in your eyes—you got nervous and that is okay, it is normal, but do not let that affect what you came here to do. Look into my eyes and see what I see. A warrior, a fighter, someone who gets kicked out but finds another way in. You are braver and stronger than you know. You are a fire that burns. Do not feed your doubts, Ria, feed your dream. Do not lose your focus." I nodded feverously, annoyed I'd shown emotion. "Now, do you want me to stand and spot you?"
I expelled a strenuous breath and nodded again.
"Look at me," he ordered. "Look in my eyes." He placed a hand on my shoulder and an eerie calmness seemed to wash over me. "Take a deep breath and release. Again." Then he smiled proudly at me and my stomach settled.
Words might have been lost on me, but Kova's thoughtfulness to ease my worries and spot me spread throughout my chest. Coaches were allowed to spot during the actual meets without receiving any kind of deduction. The spot was more for peace of mind. I'd never needed one in the past, but this was a whole new page in my storybook for me.
"I just want you to stand there."
Kova walked over and stood near the high bar. He got in position and waited for me. I was confident I could make the changes successfully but having him there quieted my fears. A comforting safety measure.
After I adjusted my routine, I also made the necessary changes to my optional routine. Kova was there the entire time. He didn't push me or ridicule me, he just let me do my thing. It was like a second chance to get used to the feel of bars.
My teammates and I moved onto vault. Just like with bars, I had two vaults I had to do—a front handspring double front tuck, and an Amanar. The only difference with vault was that I had two turns for each vault during competition as opposed to one. Both were extremely difficult, and both required minor changes that didn't frighten me in the way bars did.
"What the hell was that?" Kova questioned, striding up next to me. His eyes were huge and his hands were out waiting for an explanation. I reeled back, nervous with anxiety. I hadn't pulled the Amanar like I should have, which was why he wasn't happy. I freaked out in the middle of the twist and did a Yurchenko double instead. It wasn't uncommon for a gymnast to make the change midflight with this vault, but it would earn me a deduction in difficulty. The extra half-twist was hard as fuck to crank out.
"We need more flight."
I loved when Kova said we, because we were a team and that was important to me. He described with his body how I should be tucking and locking by making sporadic movements.
"Take one foot back in your start. Otherwise your block will suck again and you will not get the flight you need."
I glared at him when we got to the end of the runway. As if I didn't feel my shitty block.
"Okay," was all I said.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled and stomped my feet in chalk. I got into position a foot back and visualized what I was about to do. The changes felt great and I knew both vaults would be just like they were back at World Cup. Vault was my specialty. I excelled at it.
Floor was exactly what I had expected—super bouncy. I warmed up with a few passes to get a feel. Luckily, I hadn't gone out of bounds, but the height I reached made my heart plummet to the ground. I already flew pretty high as it was, so I reduced the steps in my tumbling passes to bring it down just a notch. I didn't need too much momentum.
Beam was same as any other day, but now it came with a slight wobble since it wasn't secured to the floor. I jumped, flipped, leaped, and it all came with a shake of the beam. I had to be extremely tight otherwise I'd be having balance checks every other second. In the press to handstand mount that went straight into my first combination sequence of a double back handspring into a full twist, I fell off the beam. My jittery nerves got the best of me and I shook more than I anticipated. Kova grunted under his breath loud enough to let me know how displeased he was with me, but I jumped back up, took a deep breath, and exhaled. Glancing ahead, I found my spot and began my routine, chanting to myself, I got this.
And I did. I fucking had this.
I concentrated on sticking every skill. I went deep and dark with my thoughts, into a different dimension, and only saw one word at the end of the tunnel. Success. The quickest way to overcome fear was hit it directly head on. I had to breach my comfort zone if I wanted to make any kind of advancement in this sport. I was my only limit—I decided my path. I was committed to this journey and I would succeed. I. Would. Make. It. Happen.
Once I landed my dismount without so much as a small
step—I stuck it—I looked for my coach who was already making his way toward me.
As we walked side by side back to the resting area where my duffle bag was, Kova placed his hand on my lower back.
