“You should do it. You’ve been able to do it for three years. Does that make you mad?” 

It did. It did make me mad, but I still couldn’t make myself do it no matter how hard I tried. Back handsprings on beam, they don’t seem so hard. I’ve done them many times before, but one day I couldn’t do it. I was afraid. Jumping backward, flipping, landing on my hands, then sticking it, all on a thin piece of four-inch wide slick, slippery wood that was four feet above the ground was suddenly terrifying to me. But I knew I couldn’t get better if I didn’t do the skill, so I had to. I swung, I jumped back, I did it! The next day at practice I tried and tried again, but fear raced through my blood. It stopped me from moving. It mocked me saying, “why can’t you do this?” It said, “It is so easy!” It said. But my terror and worry held me back. It was like fear put up a thick, hard wall that tormented me. I couldn’t get through the wall, no matter how hard I tried. Anger and frustration boiled inside me. I went through that struggle a lot, never being able to do it. One day doing a back handspring on beam was as easy as blinking my eyes, the next it was as difficult as swimming across the Pacific Ocean. I tried everything to make myself do it, put mats under the beam, get spotted on it, do it on low beam. Nothing worked. My mother once threatened to take me out of gymnastics if I continued not to do it. But that didn’t work either. I was offered gifts if I did the skill, but that was another failed attempt. It was 2 weeks before my competition. I had a big decision: do a round-off or a backhand spring. Even though I doubted myself and wasn’t even sure if I could do it, I picked back handspring. It came, the practice before the big meet. We were working on routines and I had to do the back handspring so my coach would let me do the back handspring in the meet two days away. I didn’t do it, I wanted to so bad but I didn’t. Then came the day of the competition. There was a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I started to warm up round offs, just in case I couldn’t do my back handspring when my teammate said “why are you warming up round offs?” 

I replied, “Well if I’m afraid and mess up and don’t do my back handspring, I will have to do a round-off.” 

I did not want to do a round-off. That was a skill I had been able to do for years. Just the thought of having to do that made me angry. My teammate then said “But you’re going to do a back handspring, you totally can! You got this!” 

Then it was time for me to compete. I was waiting for the judges to salute me. I stood there waiting. It felt like it had been hours and my hands were dripping with sweat. I couldn’t let my fears get to my brain. I thought to myself, “you got this, focus” the judge saluted me. The judge's loud, clear voice as she announced my name got lost in the swarming thoughts in my mind. I saluted. I got on the beam. My body was pulsing with fear. My legs were shaking. What if I can’t do this? I thought, “If I don’t do the back handspring, I’ll surely lose the meet. I needed an 8.775 to win. I inhaled and exhaled. I had to do it… “Yay! Woo-hoo!”

 I heard my coach and teammates scream as I stuck the landing. I did it! I was overjoyed. A smile was glued to my face throughout the whole routine. My eyes started to fill up with tears, as I did my dismount. I could hardly see the beam because of the water in my eyes. I was so happy that I finally got over my fear that the score didn’t even matter to me anymore. The score was 9.600. As I stood on the first place podium looking out at the crowd. I saw my mom cheering and taking photos, my coach clapping. I was proud of myself. And it occurred to me that all I had to do was believe in myself. My body knew how to do the back handspring. I just needed to believe mentally that I could do it. I looked at my medal. It was just a piece of plastic, and I had many other medals from other meets, but this one meant a little something more. I would have never gotten the medal if I let fear hold me back. As I walked out of the meet, I walked away with not only medals but a lesson. Never let fear set your limits.