On becoming a gymnast again, at age 40
It didn’t matter that I was 40 years old and 32 pounds overweight or that I could barely do a pushup or lift my legs more than once. I was going to join the adult gymnastics class and rediscover the sport I had left 20 years earlier. In the process I rediscovered myself and never plan to leave the sport – or myself - again.
For a year I had taken my 5-yr.old to a Saturday morning gymnastics class, watching her master skills like cartwheels and forward rolls from the visitor’s side of the 1-way viewing glass. To my surprise I found myself gathering snacks, water bottle and gymnastics gear progressively earlier each week, making sure to arrive at the gym with time to spare – so I could watch the competitive team before my daughter's class started. I found myself studying routines and marveling at the strength and flexibility the gymnasts displayed. Mostly I spent a lot of time remembering, reliving my own bar routines in my mind, noticing the slight movements in my muscles as I ‘relived’ old tricks. I remembered the joy of controlling my body through space and landing solidly on two feet - and the courage it took to try again, if I didn’t. With each week the desire to get back on the equipment grew stronger and I began to sense that my fulfillment involved finding myselft on the other side of that glass as a gymnast.
One week I noticed a new posting on my side of the glass advertising that adult classes would be starting in the next session. Most of the other moms I talked to were disinterested in joining the new class except for one and we made a commitment to each other to be there when the next session started. It was early February and class started March 22. I would have about five weeks to lose some weight and start exercising.
February passed by and March arrived and I had yet to lift a leg toward preparing for my class. Then March 21 arrived and I thought of what excuse I could give my friend for why I wouldn’t be able to take the class. In those five weeks I hadn’t lost a pound or done any exercise. I would be starting class 32 pounds overweight and in spandex. I dreaded showing everyone my body and I was nervous the demanding moves would prove too much for my atrophed muscles. Could I still do it? Would I like it? Was I too old to be trying something like this again? In the end I didn’t cancel, for besides making a commitment to my friend to be at that first class I had made a commitment to myself – to change my life. I had sat still for long enough and it was time to reconnect with that gymnast I had been and still could be, I hoped, on the other side of the glass.
The first class was the most difficult. I hadn’t anticipated feeling so self-consious, even paranoid. I wondered what the team girls were giggling about or if I looked foolish in my spandex top and pants. I found myself pre-occupied with the mirror and how large I looked in it. It was difficult to stay focused on the teacher’s instructions. Mostly I tried to ignore my shock at how difficult each movement was - and how unfamiliar. My body had apparently not retained any abilities from those earlier years in gymnastics and I guessed this was what gymnastics was like for my 5-yr.-old who I’d watched week-after-week learning skills from scratch. I sympathized with her and appreciated anew her rosie, perspiring face which greeted me each week after her class ended and made a mental note to tell her just how very proud of her efforts I was.
I became incredibly dizzy from those first forward rolls and actually staggered a few times, wondering if I was going to be sick. I hadn’t remembered ever feeling dizzy from doing forward rolls in the past and became worried that maybe I really was too old to be taking up this sport again. Perhaps it was an “over-40” thing, I wondered, forcing myself through another roll. I lumbered through cartwheels and tuck jumps, hoping no one else noticed the noisy thuds of my anything-but-gizelle-like landings. Poetry in motion I wasn’t. Finally, I had to rest even my arms, shaky from the strain of supporting my body through handstands and backward rolls.
I glanced at the clock and was amazed that over ½ hour of the class was over. I had made it through the warm up and floor rotation and we’d be moving to bars, then beam and vault. I guzzled water as if it might be my last drink and felt myself revive. I was smiling now and amazed at what my body had just survived, but glad to be done with floor, for now. Although I had felt like a complete novice on the mat there was one thing about it that was familiar - the feeling of pride from having tried my best and I knew I could make it through the next three 15-min. segments on the other pieces of equipment.
When the class ended I was stunned at that we had been exercising for 1 1/2 full hours. Like the out-of-shape Rocky Balboa attempting his first run up the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum of Art I wouldn’t be celebrating with a victory dance at the top of the staircase today but I’d call that first class anything but unsuccessful. I had gotten myself to the other side of the glass, had moved every muscle in my body, hadn’t injured myself and best of all, I had fun. In fact, I couldn’t stop smiling. I had done it. I was a gymnast again – having just contorted, lifted, stretched and rolled my jiggly body for an hour and a half. It was time to bring my spent muscles and smiling face home and get ready for the next class. Doing gymnastics again after such a long time was much more difficult that I had ever imagined - and much more rewarding.
It has now been 5 months since I first stepped into gym. Did it change my life? So far I’ve lost 22 lbs. I’ve relearned a kip, front and back walkovers and back handspring. I’m doing cartwheels on the beam and am close to doing handspring vaults by myself (with the mini-tramp). But beyond the skills in the gym, and this is the biggest surprise, my perspective on life has changed completely.
As I changed physically and overcame fears inside the gym, I discovered the energy and courage to change my life outside the gym, too. It started with basic changes to my diet which now includes healthier foods like fruits and vegetables, salads, and beans. Then I found the courage pick up a pen and begin writing again – another passion of my youth I had discarded. I now try to write almost every day, spending much of my free time choosing one work over another – and loving it. For my family I’m now that mom who jumps at the chance to play soccer with my girls, take a walk or even jump in the pool for a swim. It’s being active in all areas of my life that brings me fulfillment now.
Gymnastics has brought me to the present tense. I am a gymnast. I write. I love. I laugh, a lot. I’m living life in a way I wasn’t before and I never would have realized how getting fit would start the process of change. Whether or not I thought I was ready – I was. Signing up for the class, doing that first leg lift, even writing that first sentence were the first steps I needed to take to change my life. And now that I’ve taken those steps, I’m not turning back.
It didn’t matter that I was 40 years old and 32 pounds overweight or that I could barely do a pushup or lift my legs more than once. I was going to join the adult gymnastics class and rediscover the sport I had left 20 years earlier. In the process I rediscovered myself and never plan to leave the sport – or myself - again.
For a year I had taken my 5-yr.old to a Saturday morning gymnastics class, watching her master skills like cartwheels and forward rolls from the visitor’s side of the 1-way viewing glass. To my surprise I found myself gathering snacks, water bottle and gymnastics gear progressively earlier each week, making sure to arrive at the gym with time to spare – so I could watch the competitive team before my daughter's class started. I found myself studying routines and marveling at the strength and flexibility the gymnasts displayed. Mostly I spent a lot of time remembering, reliving my own bar routines in my mind, noticing the slight movements in my muscles as I ‘relived’ old tricks. I remembered the joy of controlling my body through space and landing solidly on two feet - and the courage it took to try again, if I didn’t. With each week the desire to get back on the equipment grew stronger and I began to sense that my fulfillment involved finding myselft on the other side of that glass as a gymnast.
One week I noticed a new posting on my side of the glass advertising that adult classes would be starting in the next session. Most of the other moms I talked to were disinterested in joining the new class except for one and we made a commitment to each other to be there when the next session started. It was early February and class started March 22. I would have about five weeks to lose some weight and start exercising.
February passed by and March arrived and I had yet to lift a leg toward preparing for my class. Then March 21 arrived and I thought of what excuse I could give my friend for why I wouldn’t be able to take the class. In those five weeks I hadn’t lost a pound or done any exercise. I would be starting class 32 pounds overweight and in spandex. I dreaded showing everyone my body and I was nervous the demanding moves would prove too much for my atrophed muscles. Could I still do it? Would I like it? Was I too old to be trying something like this again? In the end I didn’t cancel, for besides making a commitment to my friend to be at that first class I had made a commitment to myself – to change my life. I had sat still for long enough and it was time to reconnect with that gymnast I had been and still could be, I hoped, on the other side of the glass.
The first class was the most difficult. I hadn’t anticipated feeling so self-consious, even paranoid. I wondered what the team girls were giggling about or if I looked foolish in my spandex top and pants. I found myself pre-occupied with the mirror and how large I looked in it. It was difficult to stay focused on the teacher’s instructions. Mostly I tried to ignore my shock at how difficult each movement was - and how unfamiliar. My body had apparently not retained any abilities from those earlier years in gymnastics and I guessed this was what gymnastics was like for my 5-yr.-old who I’d watched week-after-week learning skills from scratch. I sympathized with her and appreciated anew her rosie, perspiring face which greeted me each week after her class ended and made a mental note to tell her just how very proud of her efforts I was.
I became incredibly dizzy from those first forward rolls and actually staggered a few times, wondering if I was going to be sick. I hadn’t remembered ever feeling dizzy from doing forward rolls in the past and became worried that maybe I really was too old to be taking up this sport again. Perhaps it was an “over-40” thing, I wondered, forcing myself through another roll. I lumbered through cartwheels and tuck jumps, hoping no one else noticed the noisy thuds of my anything-but-gizelle-like landings. Poetry in motion I wasn’t. Finally, I had to rest even my arms, shaky from the strain of supporting my body through handstands and backward rolls.
I glanced at the clock and was amazed that over ½ hour of the class was over. I had made it through the warm up and floor rotation and we’d be moving to bars, then beam and vault. I guzzled water as if it might be my last drink and felt myself revive. I was smiling now and amazed at what my body had just survived, but glad to be done with floor, for now. Although I had felt like a complete novice on the mat there was one thing about it that was familiar - the feeling of pride from having tried my best and I knew I could make it through the next three 15-min. segments on the other pieces of equipment.
When the class ended I was stunned at that we had been exercising for 1 1/2 full hours. Like the out-of-shape Rocky Balboa attempting his first run up the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum of Art I wouldn’t be celebrating with a victory dance at the top of the staircase today but I’d call that first class anything but unsuccessful. I had gotten myself to the other side of the glass, had moved every muscle in my body, hadn’t injured myself and best of all, I had fun. In fact, I couldn’t stop smiling. I had done it. I was a gymnast again – having just contorted, lifted, stretched and rolled my jiggly body for an hour and a half. It was time to bring my spent muscles and smiling face home and get ready for the next class. Doing gymnastics again after such a long time was much more difficult that I had ever imagined - and much more rewarding.
It has now been 5 months since I first stepped into gym. Did it change my life? So far I’ve lost 22 lbs. I’ve relearned a kip, front and back walkovers and back handspring. I’m doing cartwheels on the beam and am close to doing handspring vaults by myself (with the mini-tramp). But beyond the skills in the gym, and this is the biggest surprise, my perspective on life has changed completely.
As I changed physically and overcame fears inside the gym, I discovered the energy and courage to change my life outside the gym, too. It started with basic changes to my diet which now includes healthier foods like fruits and vegetables, salads, and beans. Then I found the courage pick up a pen and begin writing again – another passion of my youth I had discarded. I now try to write almost every day, spending much of my free time choosing one work over another – and loving it. For my family I’m now that mom who jumps at the chance to play soccer with my girls, take a walk or even jump in the pool for a swim. It’s being active in all areas of my life that brings me fulfillment now.
Gymnastics has brought me to the present tense. I am a gymnast. I write. I love. I laugh, a lot. I’m living life in a way I wasn’t before and I never would have realized how getting fit would start the process of change. Whether or not I thought I was ready – I was. Signing up for the class, doing that first leg lift, even writing that first sentence were the first steps I needed to take to change my life. And now that I’ve taken those steps, I’m not turning back.
posted by Pamela Hamilton at 9:08 AM
1 Comments:
Hi. I'm 47 and have always been active. I enjoy moving. I dance and do aerobics. I have always wanted to do more gymnastics. After reading your post I might try. I have to start from scratch though I used to be able to do the splits and a backbend but right now...forget it! Your post inspired me to go for it!
Best,
Jill
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