Gymnastics Taught Me. . .

I was involved in gymnastics for five years and competed for my high school's team for three years, here is what I've learned -

Whenever you mess up a routine in a meet, the only thing in the world that you want is your pants.

And you know what else? It's only at those meets that you do absolutely terribly at that you lose your pants.

You see everyone on your team cry at least once.

It's a really bad idea to put something embarrassing on the reverse side of your floor music tape. A really bad idea.

There's nothing quite as much fun as straddling the beam.

A gym is just not the place to be during nosebleed season.

Isn't it amazing how you can get used to the most disgusting things? pubic hair from the wrestlers on the mats (we share our gym with them), shaving in the bathroom before a meet (I've always refused to, but it seems like most people have done it at least once), walking everywhere barefoot, doing a cartwheel in nothing but a leotard.

There is just that moment in a cartwheel. (well said, Angela)

Once you have an injury, it stays with you your entire gymnastics career.

There is nothing quite so horrible as when you see someone fall and not get up right away. It's like your whole stomach drops and you don't want to be in the sport anymore.

You can't laugh at jokes about gymnasts with stunted growth and eating disorders once you've seen them.

When the bars bounce, it's just not cool.

Always test another school's dismount mats before going ahead and using them.

When you don't actually tumble on beam, reflex beams really suck.

You never want to rely on the trainer at another school to tape you. Especially at West G.

There is nothing in the world that is half as uncomfortable as a long-sleeved leotard.

When you go a week and a half without training and then have to compete beam, surprisingly enough, it doesn't go very well.

There's always that one girl on your team with the most god-awful annoyingest floor music ever who insists on running her routine 50 times each night.

Isn't there always that one away meet each season where you get lost on the way there, show up and hour late, lose all your warm-up time, barely have time to change, and have to start competing almost the second you get there?

You have absolutely no apetite before you compete, and you're starving afterwords.

Low-cut Mickey Mouse underwear = REALLY BAD IDEA (one that my teammates will never let me forget)

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