The Champion

The Champion

It was a small car but I was a small person, fitting between the cooler box and the window. If I was quiet, they would forget I was there and I could lay my forehead against the cool glass and watch the country flash by me.

I was their star gymnast and they were taking me around the country to various summer training camps. It was a privilege, setting me apart and making me an object of jealousy for the other girls on my team. It didn’t matter. I had never socialized with the team much anyway. I couldn’t go out for a burger after practice (too fattening) didn’t go shopping with them at weekends (extra training sessions) and didn’t share their interest in boys (too distracting). My life was training, school work and sleep. There wasn’t time for anything else if you hope to be a champion.

They were talking about me again. There would always be a pause in their conversation and then they would reanimate, but in hushed voices, thinking I couldn’t hear them. But I heard every word.

“Her run up to the vault is too slow. I told you to make her wear the ankle weights a few more weeks.”

“Definitely holding back today. I can’t understand why she’s still afraid of that move. She broke her arm over a year ago.”

“I think she’s put on some weight. I’ll keep on eye on her when she is eating her dinner tonight.”

It made me feel special when they talked about me. It reassured me that I was important to them and truly, I was important to them. If I won a few more titles, it would rocket them from small town coaches of minor talent to the elite level. I was their ticket to success. I just had to be perfect and then everything would be perfect for them.

And I did want everything to be perfect for them. They gave me so much time and attention, something I never got at home. My mother was never feeling well and my dad, well let’s just say I didn’t see him very often. My coaches though, they had gotten me a full scholarship at the gym so my mother didn’t have to worry about the cost of all the hours of coaching. They had even found me a sponsor to pay for my leotards and travelling expenses. I was given what I needed in order to do the best job possible. It was a simple equation.

“Could you hand me a soda from the cooler?” one of my coaches asked. I handed her a coke, eyeing the bright red tin and wondering what it tasted like. I had never had a cola – too much sugar. “You can have a water if you want.” I didn’t want any water. Then I would need to pee and I hated asking them to stop just for me.  I glanced out the window. It didn’t look like there were any service stations for miles. I was a bit uncomfortable but I could deal with that. I crossed my legs tightly and tried counting every blue car that I saw.

I wondered what the next gym would be like. Sometimes we were housed in a dormitory and sometimes at an extra room in someone’s house. I preferred the dorms because I could have my own room, although they checked that I went to bed on time and I was safely locked in to prevent curfew breaks – as if I would do anything that would affect my performance in the gym the next day. I knew rest was essential.

In homes, I had to have a cot bed in the same room where they slept together. It made me feel like curling up in a ball so that I wouldn’t take up too much of their space. I tried to make my breathing inaudible but then it seemed as if they were listening out for me so I tried to make my breathing loud and regular, feigning sleep.  I knew I was intruding on their private time together and would be anywhere else if I could be.

The gyms were where I felt at home – the long tracts of mats, the deep foam pits, rows of beams and bars. Some floors were better than others. Some vaulting boards less springy, but always the equipment felt like old friends. I could focus on each miniscule detail of my routines. Nothing else in the world mattered. I could block out the pain of shin splints, torn palms, bruises, hunger and just move. No thinking, no feeling, just moving. It was heaven.

In the gym, I was their centre of attention and they spoke to me, not about me and there I deserved their notice. Out of the gym, I had no real purpose. It was best to keep my mouth shut, to be invisible. Out of the gym, I wasn’t earning my way.

They must have thought I slept in the car, the things I heard.

“After we put her in the dorm, do you want to go out for a decent meal? A big steak and fries?”

“Do you think she heard us having sex last night? Not that she would know what we were doing! I don’t think I can bear another night with her in our room. It’s such a pain.”

“Do you think her mother will still be alive when we get back from the tour? She told us on the phone that the chemo wasn’t working.”

“How can she not even realise her mother is dying? I guess that’s athletes for you – totally focussed on themselves.”

I was very good at crying silently. I had a lot of practice. But when I wiped my nose, it left marks on the new white track suit. I hoped they wouldn’t notice.

I looked out the window again. We were passing a stockyard. The cattle were crowded together, being fattened for slaughter. Poor things. They had no control over their lives.