Letters to a Young Gymnast (10 page)

I thrived at the gym, where it smelled like mats and chalk and felt like a home away from home. There was no child abuse in my life. As children at the experimental school in Onesti, we had everything done for us. Our rooms were warm and always cleaned, there was more than enough food, and the cooking and dishes were always done for us. The only thing we had to do was gymnastics, and no one forced us. Meanwhile, people in Romania were literally starving at the time. Maybe that's why I find the idea that I sacrificed my childhood so bizarre. For gymnasts in Communist countries, the sport gave us more than it could ever take away. Yes, there were tragic accidents, but considering what we were doing, it's actually impressive there were so few.

What did I miss, then? Going to the mall and hanging out? Dating boys before I was emotionally ready for a relationship? Video games? We didn't have those! I didn't even know what a VCR was. In Onesti, all there was to do was walk around the village. I was a gymnast for such a small period of time, yet it gave me so much. What does a kid really do between the age of six and sixteen that's so valuable? Today, I'd be a forty-something nobody if I hadn't been a gymnast. Even if I hadn't become number one in my field, I'd still be more than I would have been without goals and accomplishments. I've done something with my life and learned about strength, determination, and drive.

You may think that it's easy for me to write this because I succeeded in my sport, but there were years
when I did not succeed. Life wasn't handed to me on a plate of gold. Nothing fell into my lap. I went for things, and sometimes I got them and sometimes I didn't. Hard work will always get you somewhere. If you have a little talent and work very hard, then you have a shot at being a big winner. And if you have a lucky star in your hand, then you may just accomplish your goals. Above all else, you have to be hungry to do something unbelievable.

I've read that Bela once said about gymnasts, “These girls are like little scorpions. You put them all in a bottle, and one scorpion will come out alive. That scorpion will be champion.” I was always a survivor, and perhaps that eventually made me a champion. Regardless, gymnastics gave me a sense of myself and made me stronger, both mentally and physically.
Devastated
is a word I don't even know. Everything in life can be fixed somehow.

Don't you see that for me,
sacrifice
and
gymnastics
are not synonymous. The concepts exist at two different poles on two different planets in two different universes. I look at gymnasts today and think they have it much better than I did. Maybe that's just about being an adult and looking at children. But for one, the equipment is much safer. Our beam was made of wood, and now it's a softer and more forgiving material. The floors are much springier, so gymnasts can go higher and do skills with more safety. I wish I'd had a chance to play on those when I was ten years old. And young gymnasts have so many more options in their lives these days.

Kids today are also savvier than we were back then. There are computers and television and a host of other educational and sports-related opportunities. But no child, no matter where he is born, sacrifices time if he doesn't like what he's doing. Sure, there are some
disturbed parents and children out there, and for them, I'm sorry that any given sport is unhealthy. And there have always been bad coaches, though today, it's simple to research their backgrounds and make an educated decision about who is best for your child.

You've asked, “What of the pressure?” Well, again, I have only my own opinion. Mostly, it's people in the United States who contend that young athletes experience too much pressure. Personally, I don't think that children have any pressure. Adults have pressure, but what does a kid know about it except what she puts on her own shoulders? Maybe it's different now. When I was young, at least before the 1976 Olympics, no one expected anything from me. There was no media pressure. There was nothing to lose. What was my mother going to do—put me out on the street if I didn't succeed as a gymnast?

My mother never got involved with my sport. That is not the case with everyone. Sometimes I see parents getting too involved. They should be doing their own thing, while still supporting their kids' efforts. Too much involvement changes a child's perceptions of what he is doing and why. Goals get clouded, on both the adult and the child's sides. That's when problems occur. To the parents, I say that in the United States, there are approximately 4 million kids doing some level of gymnastics, and only
six
of them will actually make it to the Olympics. Those are steep odds, to say the least.

In the United States, there are so many gymnastics programs, many of them free, that any child can see if she enjoys the sport. From that point on, a level of personal and financial commitment will grow if it's meant to be. In Romania, you had to move away from your family,
live in a sports complex, and train with a specific coach to succeed. In the United States, there are a lot of good coaches, and though some children and their families move as a result of their dedication to gymnastics, it doesn't have to be that way. I don't know if that's better or worse, just different.

You want to know what I think? Let a child have the chance to find out what sport she loves and to see what she's good at. If she doesn't like it, fine, let her do something else. But keep her active because it's good for her body and mind. Kids shouldn't be obligated to do a sport just because they show promise. No matter how much a parent wants it, the child has to want it more.

Of course, it may be possible for a talented child to eventually win Olympic medals, but most kids change their minds about what they want to do within weeks, months, or a few years. Even if they don't, so few young gymnasts are actually good at all four events, and to be a successful elite gymnast, you have to be great at each and astoundingly consistent. So you can bet that most kids just aren't going to make it, and that's okay. What's important is to develop a healthy sense of self-esteem.

You want to know what I'd do if a child came to me at age seven and told me that she was going to shoot for the moon? I would never say that she's lost her mind. Things are possible, and I'd never clip somebody's wings. Yes, you can do that, I'd say, but it's going to be very hard. I'm here to help because I know what happens when you miss a skill like a back handspring on the beam and get frustrated or have fear. I've been in your shoes. To her parents, I might say that the moon is far away and very high and that it can be a lonely place. I'd say to be careful of letting their child attempt to visit the moon
unless they are ready to catch her if she falls and to deal with the consequences. Not every child is meant to be a Nadia. Sometimes I am amazed that I never got broken.

As a result of my experiences and those of my husband, Bart Conner, the gymnasium and programs we run at the Bart Conner Gymnastics Academy in Norman, Oklahoma, aren't designed only for those elite gymnasts who want to go to the Olympics. We love to coach and watch kids—both the gifted ones and those just enjoying themselves—learn new skills and gain strength and self-confidence. Our biggest focus is on getting our gymnasts scholarships to good colleges. We like the idea that we make the sport more accessible and help kids who couldn't pay for an education to get one through their athletic talents.

But back to your question, my friend, about the physical toll of gymnastics. I never blame a sport for things that happen in life. There are accidents, but I believe they only happen when a gymnast is either incredibly unlucky or unprepared. Of course, there is always a physical price to pay in my sport. I have pains here and there from my time as a gymnast. It's pretty normal wear and tear, considering what I was doing with my body. I made decisions for myself back then. In a world where everything is bad for you in excess, I chose to listen to my body and take care of it. There was only one time, in Fort Worth, Texas, when I ignored my body's pain signals.

I'm not naive. Just like you, I've read that U.S. gymnast Betty Okino refused to stop training when she was diagnosed with a stress fracture in her right elbow. Eventually, her arm broke. She also ripped the tendon from the bone below her knee while running toward a
vault and had stress fractures in her back and ultimately shattered several vertebrae. Okino, like countless other elite gymnasts, was willing to risk her health to be in the Olympics. Kelly Garrison had more than twenty stress fractures in her back from years of competitions, and Brandy Johnson, one of the top U.S. gymnasts, competed at the 1989 Worlds with a fractured foot. I don't know any of their personal reasons or if adults in their lives should have stopped them. I refuse to be anyone's judge.

All elite athletes deal with pain. Some of their bodies are unable to handle the intense training. I have been through the pain of conditioning, but while I was competing, I never suffered torn tendons, broken bones, or shattered vertebrae. If I had, I don't know what I would have done. It's hard to balance intense desire with injuries and to know whether the threat of disappointment would have overshadowed common sense. Some gymnasts pop ibuprofen every day. Others are willing to numb the pain of fractures with injections before competitions and deal with the consequences later. Is it right? No. Did I do it to a lesser extent during my career? Yes. Did anyone force me? No way. But then, I was a kid, and some would point out that I didn't know any better.

And what about the emotional toll? You wrote me that you've read about the devastation some gymnasts experience when they don't accomplish their goals. I can sympathize but not empathize with them because that is not what happened to me. I had tough times, but I always fought my way back to the top, and what I came to understand through that process was priceless. Gymnastics is a difficult sport, but life is tougher. What I learned
about ignoring my detractors, focusing on my goals, and overcoming seemingly impossible challenges during my gymnastics career has helped me. I don't know if I could have left my family, risked my life by defecting from my homeland, or found a new life in a foreign country if I had not struggled to overcome challenges in the past. What you learn as a child and teen and the life skills that come out of difficult situations are vital tools for adulthood. It doesn't matter whether you win gold medals. What matters is that you strive to be your best and then struggle to be even better.

You want to know about the darkness in a sport that was always filled with light for me. I can't answer your questions about anorexia and gymnastics because though I can sympathize with gymnasts who experience eating disorders, once again I can't relate. First, in Romania, most gymnasts considered themselves lucky to get three good meals a day. Second, we weren't in charge of our diets. The team doctor decided all of our meals, and we simply ate them because we didn't know there was any other choice. Third, there were no trips to the candy store (we didn't have a candy store, and even if we had, we didn't have much money for sweets) or late-night bingeing on food at sleepovers. Of course, like any kids, we did try to sneak candy and other sweets we were given by friends into the dorm, and we succeeded sometimes. But our movements were quite controlled, and there was no way we could gain weight with the amount of exercise we did.

The truth is that if we had gained too much weight, we would not have been great gymnasts and could have gotten hurt. Only by balancing calories can any gymnast maintain her weight and delay puberty. Puberty can end a
girl's career, and overweight gymnasts, no matter how talented, can't be as powerful or graceful as competitors who maintain a healthier body weight. This is just a fact. My friend, it might seem unfair, but a soccer player needs power and muscles; a football player must be fast, strong, and sometimes heavier than he desires; a skater needs graceful lines; and gymnasts must be light and lean.

As a result of eating well and being under the guidance of a physician, I was given the gift of a strong body and bones, though my mother of course attributes these things to a different source. She loves to remind me that
she
is most responsible for my health, saying that when I was born, I took everything good out of her body. I understand that there are real consequences for young gymnasts who do not eat a healthy, well-balanced diet. I urge parents to look at their child's psyche, body type, and nutritional needs when helping that child decide if a career in gymnastics is the right choice for his or her physical
and
emotional well-being.

I have tried to answer your questions about the emotional and physical tolls of gymnastics from my own perspective. I have written about overcoming challenges and winning the gold at the European Championships just five months after my poor showing at the 1978 Worlds. Although I've expressed how gymnastics has affected my life in countless positive ways, you are understandably still very curious about the one time I mentioned when I did ignore my body's pain signals. Before I tell you what really happened in Fort Worth, let me say that though I pushed the envelope that day, I believe I was never in danger of serious injury. One of the reasons my gymnastics career was so long and successful was because of the common sense I exhibited.

After the Worlds and the European Championships, I spent the next few months training and competing, with success after success. I had achieved a higher level of fitness than ever before and believed my results at the World Championships in Fort Worth would be no different. But there were problems before our team ever arrived in Texas. The Romanian government sent us to Mexico a month before the Worlds to train in a gymnasium on U.S. apparatus they'd purchased, to make certain we would be comfortable going into the competition. The differences in the equipment were very small, but even tiny things such as the feel of the floor material and the measurement systems of the vault and bars can throw off a gymnast when the pressure is on. They also wanted us to get used to the heat and humidity, since the climate in Mexico was similar to that in Texas. But instead of getting prepared, we got a vicious stomach flu. Suffering from diarrhea and nausea, it was difficult to train. I lost almost 10 pounds and was incredibly weak.