valiant-hobbit replied to your post
Hey, that’s awesome! Will you share?
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Of course I will, bud! Thanks for asking lol. I’ve been kinda desperate to talk about something other than academics. So this is going to be kinda long-winded. Sorry.
Anywho, so I used to be a gymnast, right? And in all honesty, I wasn’t that good (I made it about halfway through the Junior Olympic levels before I quit), but I was obsessed with it. Before I could even do a back handspring I was hell bent on going to the Rio Olympics, since that would be the first Games I’d be eligible for (and you can probably guess I didn’t go). My coach even picked up on my obsession, letting me train with the girls in the higher levels on extra days, to the point that I was in the gym five days a week. And when I wasn’t in the gym I was practicing my leaps and jumps on my mini-trampoline and practicing on the “balance beam” that I made with four really long pieces of masking tape stuck to the floor. I think it’s safe to say that I probably practiced over 30 hours a week.
Now, I was never too good in meets (1 gold in all-around, 1 silver on floor, 3 bronzes in floor, beam, and vault), so I really couldn’t have gone too far. When I finally quit, it was right after my worst meet, in which I placed last on the balance beam (which I had been known as the best in my level at). I wish I hadn’t quit on such bad terms.
So, how is this relevant?
Watching the Olympics this year was especially painful at first. It was just the thought that, if I had been short enough, if I had been healthy enough, if I had been flexible enough, if I had been strong enough-- if I had been good enough, I would have been there. But instead I’m sitting on my couch like the rest of America. And then I read an article about the alternates.
The gymnastics teams all have three alternates, but obviously they usually never get to compete in the Games. But they have to travel there anyway, train for seemingly no reason, and then support the “actual” team members. How painful could that be?
Take Ashton Locklear for example. I mean, she did great at Trials (even better than some of the girls who DID make the team), but at her age, this Olympics was kind of her only shot. Now she will probably retire soon, knowing she was this close to Olympic gold, but just not close enough.
Then there’s Ragan Smith. She’s only fifteen, so she can try again for Tokyo. But still, imagine the agony. She has to wait four more years.
And so I want to write a book about alternate gymnasts. Probably called “Alternate Reality” or something, I dunno. I want to write about a fifteen-year-old girl who tries out for the Olympics, who has sacrificed nearly everything. Her parents pay thousands upon thousands for her training, she is in the gym 32 hours a week, and all she has ever dreamed of is competing in the Olympics.
But she doesn’t make the official team. Instead, she is named an alternate.
So now she has to face the emotional challenges of being an alternate, she must decide if she wants to continue competing elite or if she wants to retire, and find ways to pay for her training. I was also thinking of throwing in flashbacks here and there from when she first began gymnastics leading up to when she makes the U.S. National Team, to her performances at Olympic Trials. The flashbacks will serve to remind her of what really matters, and ultimately she must decide if she wants to continue her journey in elite gymnastics, or if it is time to let go.
That’s all I got right now.
