Hand Slam

(I was complaining to Jarom about my back hurting the other night and I told him how it originated (which he thought very funny). I was having a hard time capturing the real humor in it. Anyhow, this about sums it up.)

I'm not really sure what I was thinking when I signed up for the gymnastics class at BYU my freshman year. Perhaps I thought that I would sail gracefully from bar to bar, landing a triple flip mount into a pit of foam bits while my classmates "ooo'd and awed" at my incredible learning curve. Perhaps I figured that when BYU said Beginning Gymnastics they would begin us with somersaults and cartwheels like a proper Beginners class would offer at The Little Gym. I must have been on crack, or seriously delusional because I have never been particularly gifted with balance, especially since my body is all arms and legs and no muscle.

Anyhow, seven years ago I got the urge to sign up for a Gymnastics class, and I took one. For one day.

And I was defeated.

That morning I carefully selected a pair of stretchy yoga pants and a fitted tank top. I was excited to learn how to do some cool tricks, learn how to do a flip on the bars (in time), and get in some spotting with my teacher. What I got instead was a intermediate class for girls who had done more than ribbon dancing and cartwheels in their front yards as kids.

We began with some stretches, which was exciting because I was good at this. From there we moved into a brand new world of body contortions that I was neither prepared for nor expecting. But, I was also proud and didn't want to admit that I didn't have the strength or training to do these seeing that all the other girls were nodding enthusiastically. Today we were going to begin with hand stands that evolved into a forward roll! Yeay! Now if that doesn't make sense imagine standing on your hands and than maneuvering your body into the position that you do a cartwheel from that. Sounds easy right? Please.

I made my way into the back of the class, carefully watching from the back of the line how the girls were balancing themselves in perfect pencils before they gently tucked themselves into a ball. It was amazing; like watching an assembly line of people moving across the mat; art even. Before I knew it it was my turn and the teacher was giving the signal to begin.

Now I had never done a hand stand that actually made it straight up before falling back over, but somehow I tricked myself into believing that today would be different. Not only would I hand stand, but I would roll.

Taking a deep breath (which in seconds I would regret), I threw my full body weight onto my hands, flying past the hand stand stage where you gain control before maneuvering the next move. Instead of rolling into a ball I realized that I didn't know what to do and I panicked.

I looked like a cat in a desperate attempt to right myself in mid air, my body twisting in a strange tense arch. I wasn't even graceful as I slid from the hand stand into a back slam on the floor my breath rushing from my body in a loud and violent "Ha!". It was like a WWF wrestling move gone terribly wrong. While other girls rolled into a ball and jumped to their feet like a rehearsed version of the rockettes at Radio City Hall-I lay there on the ground, my eyes dilated in pain, while peoples faces passed in an out of focus as they tumbled all around me. And then my teacher uttered the words that echoed in my head for years after.

"Just go around her."

Just go around her? Honestly? As I lay dying; partially paralyzed; my pain sending waves of heat through my body; girls rolled past me, all the while my teacher calling out to them with instructions. There was no running over, no attending the to girl who hadn't breathed for at least 3 minutes, and couldn't feel her arms.

It was like a bad movie. What was worse was the fact that the girls who were "tumbling" were nearly missing me, and in a sense of self preservation I somehow mustered the ability to army crawl off the mat into the corner to regain total consciousness.

For the rest of the hour my teacher instructed the class, offering suggestions to the star pupils while I lay perfectly still in the corner. At the end of the class she left, without a word to me. And I walked home and laid in my bed wondering when my back would heal itself. Which it still hasn't totally.

So this girl went back to somersaults and cartwheels and ribbon dancer. And I'll leave the real gymnastics to the pros.