4. Prologue -- Nadia

Prologue -- Nadia

O ne month ago, Gymnastics Team Trials…

The energy of the crowd was almost frenetic as I walked out to the mat. I glanced around, the faces of the audience blurring under the bright overhead lights. My gymnastic shoes squeaked on the surface of the mat as the crowd quieted in anticipation of my performance.

I looked up at the uneven bars and took a deep, calming breath. I looked down at my hands, verifying that I hadn't done something stupid like forgetting to apply chalk to my hands. My heart pounded, and I took another calming breath, using the techniques I'd been practicing since I was a little girl to drown out everything around me. Everything except the bars.

The crowd hushed as I surged forward, leaping into the air to grab the lowest bar, swinging to gain momentum before I transitioned over to the higher bar. Up, down, and around, I swung, circled, and twisted, moving between the two bars, careful to make every arc of my body graceful and balanced. I kept my breathing even as I focused on completing my routine, hitting every move almost perfectly.

I released at just the right moment, a perfect dismount sending my body into a tight, controlled spin back towards the mat. My feet connected and I resisted the urge to step back, years of practice helping me stick the landing. There was the tiniest pause before the crowd exploded, cheering and applauding.

I waved to them and ran right over to my coach Olga, who stood on the sidelines watching the entire performance. She pulled me into a tight hug and in the thick Ukrainian accent she hadn't lost even after twenty years living in the United States she yelled, "Yes! You're going to the Games! Hello Paris!"