Once upon a time, an almost 50-year-old Geriatric Gymnast decided she might want to try to do a flyaway from the high bar. She saw just how easily her friends could do it, and it looked super fun.
Her coach had a “brilliant idea” to try a supported back flip off the high bar to get the elder gymnast to feel the body position that was needed to make that new skill happen.
For a moment, she was hopeful that the simple act of “let go and tuck” would come to fruition.
Alas, that brilliant idea was not meant to be. The wiggly Mr. Lizard decided that there was just too much danger involved with such a stunt and put the kibosh on the whole idea. The almost 50-year-old decided that perhaps, flyaways were not in the cards.
Many moons later, the intrepid elder flipper, now well into her 50s, participated in her first competition season.
It was quite an education, seeing so many possibilities for bodies and brains that were over five decades old. She saw people just like her doing those elusive flyaways and she thought, what would it actually take for me to have the courage to try this crazy skill? Would I ever have the courage to let go?
As she trained her skills to compete, the Geriatric Gymnast worked diligently on leveling up her bars skills. Back hip circles, glides, mill circles, underswing dismounts all improved enough to put on display before a wider audience.
She got stronger every session. She worked on those elusive tap swings, holding on for longer, strengthening her hand calluses, and increasing the amplitude of the pendulum.
She improved each phase of the swing, absorbing the timing of “hollow-arch-regrip.” She started to think more about those lingering questions.
Is this something I can do?
In the warm freedom of summer vacation, her partner-in-flipping Tammy made a suggestion. Wanna go to Paradigm open gym? This place, though far away, had foam pits that would make challenging landings much safer than trying on regular mats. On the off-chance that Mr. Lizard might be less vigilant, The Geriatric Gymnast decided that perchance, a flyaway attempt could sneak into the rotation.
A visit to Paradigm it would be.
Paradigm Progress
The vast landscape of this faraway gym was a bit much for this elder gymnast’s brain. She had visited there in the past, before injuries sidelined her for quite some time. While she played on the high bar there, she couldn’t quite pull the trigger on the “let go and tuck” facet of flyaways.
She wished for this visit to be different. She surveyed the large pit of foam and repeated her new mantra: It’s just foam. It’s super squishy. This will be okay.
Progress comes best in small steps. Mr. Lizard stays quiet when you do a good job convincing him that your choices will not lead to imminent doom. It was time to climb up to the bar and start swinging. Would her new mantra be enough to tame the lizard? The only way to know would be to take it step-by-step.
Step One: Strong tap swings, let go and drop onto her back.
This first step let her explore the initial body shape needed before activating the tuck position.
Mission accomplished.
Step Two: Let go, tuck, and see what happens.
What happened? She landed head first into the pit. She was quite thankful for foam.
But this step was an informative one. It established the baseline for her timing.
What did she need to change? Tuck tighter and faster.
Step Three: Swing high, tuck more.
This one actually looked like a decent flyaway. Without the pit, she would have landed on her hands and knees, but the rotation was much better. She was moving in the right direction.
Suggestion for improvement: grab the knees instead of leaving them flailing in the air.
Step Four: Think about grabbing the knees.
The arms weren’t flailing, but they didn’t quite make it to the knees.
By the end of this practice, the Geriatric Gymnast’s hands ached. Not because the skin ripped, certainly not. Rather, the weary bones in her palms were irritated by the aggressive bar throwing.
It was a valiant training session, and now it was time to rest. She took solace in the truth that in that moment of conquest, Mr. Lizard had been vanquished.
This sweet victory encouraged her to revisit Paradigm to see if she could, once again, keep the beast at bay.
One week later, she returned to the castle of foam pits to continue her conquest. Hopeful that she could continue forth from the week before, she repeated her mantra:
It’s just foam. It’s super squishy. This will be okay.
She climbed up to the high bar and started to swing.
Step Five: Find the knees.
She was very mindful of the need to achieve the full tuck body position to rotate quickly.
On the release, for a brief moment, her hands seemed to graze her knees before reaching protectively for the landing pit. Mr. Lizard hadn’t fully given up yet.
Step Six: Hold that tuck tight!
While the hands did not hold the knees, a tighter tuck position was certainly achieved. Full rotation occurred and she landed squarely on her feet.
Progress was achieved.
While our intrepid Geriatric Gymnast is far from proficient at flying away from the high bar, she took an enormous leap forward. It seems that is how things work in her brain. She abides by Mr. Lizard’s over-protective influence for just so long. When she remembers her skill, her strength and her wisdom, she envisions more possibility, taps into the bounty and redoubles her efforts to slay the Lizard.
For certain, this is just the beginning of her flyaway journey.
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