I Got This Read online

  The same way I’d worked my legs when I couldn’t use my hands, I worked my arms when I couldn’t use my legs. I was not giving up. When I wasn’t training, I was watching gymnastics videos or following how my friends were doing at their meets. That year my Monmouth Gymnastics (MG) Elite teammate Jazmyn Foberg, whom we all call Jazzy, took the number one spot at Nationals. I remember being glued to the TV as she competed at the P&Gs in Pittsburgh. It was such a great moment for her. I was tweeting about it, cheering her on, and generally making sure she felt my support. But at the same time, I wanted to recover and get back out there myself. I missed it. It seemed as if all the same lessons I’d learned when I fractured my wrist were being reinforced: I knew I had to be patient, positive, motivated, and resourceful. I always finish what I start, and this time was no exception. I wasn’t about to quit.

  What I learned about fully recovering from an injury is that it’s something only you can decide to do for yourself. It helps to have a strong community, but until you know you’re ready to push for it, there’s nothing anyone else can say to convince you. For a long time, I didn’t talk to anyone about what I was feeling. I would just put my head down and do the work. Lots of times I was fighting against myself.

  Everyone would tell me that I could do it and that I was strong, but I think the person who understood what I was going through the most was my brother. Marcus just sat with me when I was tired and told me he understood how hard it was. That was all he said, and I appreciated it. I know he’d been around some resilient athletes in his track days. He saw that even the tough Division I athletes he knew had fragile moments after a big injury. He understood that I was competing at an even higher level, so there was even more at stake.

  It also helped to talk to my physical therapist, Malvin Torralba. I told him how nervous I was, and he said, “Then don’t go back before I release you. You know I’m not going to release you until I know you’re really strong enough to get out there again, right?” And he was right. When I did finally return in November, I was still scared to do things I thought might hurt. Everyone I worked with at the gym and at the ranch reassured me that they wouldn’t let me do anything I couldn’t do, though. They pushed me hard, and even though there were times I thought it was too hard, they remained true to their word and never pushed me beyond my abilities. One reason I got through those tough workouts was Dr. Jidong Sun. She got her medical training in Beijing, so she knew all the best rehab practices used on elite gymnasts in China and applied them to my recovery. And Dr. Sunny Shen gave me acupuncture, which helps your body heal itself. When you have regular acupuncture treatments, you’re making sure the wear and tear of daily practice is being addressed before small problems turn into big ones.

  There are so many other examples of the kind of support I received from people during that difficult recovery time: friends, family, doctors, coaches, teammates—everyone rallied around me. And possibly the most incredible act of kindness came from someone who never knew me and whom I will never have the chance to thank. One of the amazing things about my surgery is that Dr. Fulkerson restored my torn ligament by using a piece of a cadaver! The donated tissue was grafted to my damaged tissue to help mend and strengthen it. By the magic of medical science and the generosity of tissue donors like mine, many athletes and people who’ve had serious or multiple injuries to their ligaments have been able to make a comeback in their sport or life. I know I’m very grateful to my donor and his family, and I’m sure others who have had the same procedure are grateful to theirs, too.

  I definitely had my fair share of struggles throughout 2014, but by the time it was over, I was a much stronger person mentally, physically, and emotionally—and everyone around me could sense it. I was finally ready for a new chapter in my gymnastics career to begin. Though as mature as that sounds, I still approached my sport with all the pent-up, hyperactive energy of a fourteen-year-old. While I had to adopt a serious mind-set for much of that year, I was still a kid, and I didn’t want to give up that part of me yet—if I was going to continue on this path, I still wanted it to be fun.

  BRING IT ON!

  CHAPTER 9

  SPEAKING OF FUN, THERE ARE FEW PLACES IN THE world more fun and exciting than Italy! I’d always wanted to go there, and in March 2015, that dream came true when I competed for the City of Jesolo Trophy.

  Whenever the USA Gymnastics team competes internationally, we usually arrive a few days early so we can adjust to the time difference, to what we’re eating, and to the equipment we’re using. My teammates Jazzy and Norah Flatley—two of my favorite people in the world—were on this trip, too. I feel like I’ve known them both forever, and in some ways, with Norah, I really have. Norah and I first met at TOPs camp, when we were much younger and were being tested to see what our potential was. We didn’t see each other for several years after that, but when I became a junior, I saw her at the ranch and thought, Hey, wait, don’t I know her from somewhere? We were happy to reconnect because we’d had so much fun together before. When we’d bunked together at camp, we’d make shadow puppets on the wall at night and tell stories. It was great to have extra time with Norah and Jazzy in a place as special and vibrant as Italy. We fell completely in love with the food, the architecture, the gondolas, and the people. But the craziest thing happened before we even got there. . . .

  I was at camp in Texas, and Marta was deciding who to take to the upcoming international competition this time around. I had to qualify on both bars and beam in order to go. As it happened, a rip had reopened on my wrist (a rip is when a flap of skin, sometimes several layers thick, comes off on the palm or wrist due to friction between the hands and the parallel or uneven bars). And the rip seemed to be infected. I wanted to compete outside the country again, and I also knew that Jesolo was just a little bit north of Venice, a city I’d always wanted to see. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by, so on the day of the first trial I said to myself, I’ll try to qualify, and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. It wasn’t meant to be. That’s kind of my philosophy when I’m not sure which way things are going to go for me. I’ve always had confidence that if I’m supposed to succeed, I will, and if I don’t, God will just redirect me toward the path I should be on. Marcus reminded me of that a lot after I had my surgery, and he was right. With that mind-set firmly in place, I put on my grips and did my routine. A few hours later, when my wrist looked worse than before, I was worried. Trials were continuing into the next day, and that’s when I would have to qualify for beam. I knew the infection wouldn’t be clear by then if I didn’t get it checked out, so I asked to be taken to the hospital and they gave me antibiotics to clear it up. When I finally got back to my room late that night, I was stressing because I really wanted to go to Italy. I called my mom and she said, “Laurie, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to go to Jesolo. I’ll come to Texas and pick you up.” After everything that had happened the year before, she and my father didn’t want me doing anything that would jeopardize my health. But I was still determined to try, because the lesson I’d learned from all my injuries was that you can never take anything for granted. If you don’t try to work your way back, the opportunity is over; if you try your hardest to come back and it doesn’t happen for you, then you can at least say you gave it your best effort.

  Early the next morning I pushed through, and I’m happy I did because I qualified for beam. Still, it wasn’t certain that I was going: Marta was very clear with me that if I wasn’t healed by the time we had to leave, they couldn’t take me. I had to make sure I got better before I got on that plane . . . and I did.

  In the end, I guess it was meant to be, because the competition went well for me. As my mom likes to say: I rocked the house! I ended up being crowned junior all-around champion with a score of 57.650. In the junior event finals, I earned additional gold medals on bars and floor with scores of 14.400 and 14.500 respectively. I was happier than a singing gondolier!

  Winning the
Jesolo Trophy was a victory for me on many levels. I went into it wanting to show the people who were putting their faith in me that my past injuries weren’t going to hold me back—and that, if anything, they had made me better. That’s exactly the message I think I conveyed.

  Italy positively influenced the next few competitions for me, too. In the lead-up to 2016—an Olympic year—our meet season was different. We weren’t competing constantly, because our coaches didn’t want us to overexert ourselves. Our biggest competitions in 2015 were mostly held in the summer, so during the winter and spring we worked on skills and basics or on new skills we wanted to add to our routines to upgrade them. But because the competition in Italy happened so early in the year, we just kept doing routines from that point onward. As a result, my routines got more and more consistent.

  By the time June came around, I went into the national competitions thinking, All right, this is mine. I got this. That’s probably when I first started saying that now-famous expression to myself. During practice for most competitions, my teammates and I usually warmed up by doing pressure sets, where everyone watches while you perform your routine. I could always hear them cheering for me in the background, saying things like, “Come on, Laurie, you can do it. You got this.” Eventually, as the Olympics drew closer, I noticed that I was practicing more and more by myself. Because I had a lot of doctor appointments, my schedule changed and there were a lot of times it was just me and my coach in the gym alone for workouts. That’s when I began talking to myself, kind of mimicking what my teammates used to say when they cheered me on. I found that saying what they would say, especially “You got this,” helped to calm and focus me.

  Sure enough, after assuring myself that the next meet was mine, I hit all my routines at the Secret Classic and ended up winning the junior all-around with a score of 58.450. I also won vault with a 14.900 and bars with a 15.00 score. I placed third on beam with a 14.200 and tied with Deanne Soza for floor, scoring a 14.350. It was one of my favorite competitions until that point. I could just feel that this was going to be my breakthrough year.

  Then I hit all my routines at the P&Gs in Indianapolis: by the end of the two-day competition, I had won the junior all-around, the title on bars with a combined two-day score of 30.100, silver on floor, and bronze on beam and vault. Though it didn’t exactly start out too well. . . .

  On the first day we were leading off with vault. During practice I kept getting lost in my twist and landing on my back. (I told you I was known for my bad warm-ups!) That really frightened me. I didn’t know what to do. Just minutes before I competed, my coach said, “Don’t worry about it. Just go for it.” So I took a leap of faith, and by some miracle, I was able to finish the twist. After it was all over, she said, “You can’t give me a heart attack like that. Next time, don’t do that. It scared me.” It was such a crazy way to start off the meet, but it made me realize that I’m not the only one who stresses out at competitions. Coaches have to make some tough judgment calls that weigh on them, too. Thankfully, the rest of the meet was great.

  My teammate Jazzy was in the lead on the first day, and my score was 57.950. I tried not to think too much about that and focused instead on enjoying the competition and everything around me. I followed up with a score of 59.550 on the second day. We ended with the floor exercise, and after Jazzy and I each did our routines, I thought we had tied. There’s this video of us jumping up and down when my score came up because we thought we were both going to come in first. But in reality, I was one-tenth of a point above her. It was so close.

  As you can imagine, one of the tough things about competing is that a lot of times you like and respect the other gymnasts. That’s how I feel about Jazzy. She’s such an amazing person. She’s so focused that no matter what the task is, she will not stop pushing until she gets the job done. She’s a real go-getter. As for me, I do freak out at times (but I do the best I can in the moment and then I let it go). In that way, we balance each other out. But even when you’re really close with someone like that, you can’t feel bad about placing ahead of them or behind them in any competition. So at the P&Gs, I thought, Thank goodness my hard work finally paid off! All the repetitions I did came together at the last minute and I was able to hit those routines. At the same time, I was reminding Jazzy of how good a job she did, too! And if I’d come in second, I’d have thought, Okay, there’s always a next time. In situations like that, when I come in behind a teammate, I always try to congratulate her. I think it’s important to acknowledge that she worked hard and deserves her success. (Not to get too far ahead, but I did that at the Olympics with Sanne Wevers of the Netherlands, the girl who won gold for beam. I saw her crying because she was so excited, so I walked over and said, “I watched you in practice. You are such a hard worker. You definitely deserve this. Congratulations.” I didn’t think, Ah man, I should have gotten that first-place medal. Instead I thought, Wow, I’m proud of you, but I’m proud of me, too, for getting that second place.) I guess I can do that because I know how much any gymnast puts into getting to our level of skill. It deserves our mutual respect.

  The next big event after the P&Gs brought me back to Japan, where I’d had my very first international competition in 2013. I was a lot more comfortable than I’d been that first time. Jazzy was in the competition with me, too, and we both had so much fun. It’s one of those experiences I’m never going to forget. We got to tour Tokyo and visit these beautiful Japanese temples. I made a lot of Japanese friends, and we all ended up trading team pins. It was such a great experience. The culture was completely new to us, and as I mentioned about our trip to Italy, even the gymnastic equipment in Japan was different. The texture of the material didn’t feel like what we were used to in the United States. One thing I remember clearly is that the vault runway didn’t have a platform under it, so it was much harder than ours. But we all adjusted quickly.

  I ended up winning the all-around there, too, as well as floor and vault. I also earned silver medals on beam and bars. I was happy that it was such a consistent and steady meet. It was definitely my best career performance up to that moment. But even though people started saying I was unstoppable, I knew I still had to grow. I was determined to double down and work even harder to meet my goals. It was always flattering to hear people say, “You’re coming up so quickly, you’re amazing,” but I did have to just say “Thank you” and then ignore the compliment. I couldn’t let those words sit in my head like that, just in case my mind got the message that it could stop pushing so hard. I had to tell myself, You still have work to do; it’s not over yet.

  A FAR CRY FROM OVER

  CHAPTER 10

  I KNOW THIS IS A WEIRD QUESTION, BUT HAVE YOU ever had a premonition? You know, where you’re positive something is about to happen to you? You can close your eyes and see a future event unfold before you as clearly as if it were a memory?

  Well, I woke up on New Year’s Day in 2016 having that exact experience. I’m not kidding. I’d always known that gymnastics was something I was supposed to be doing. From a very early age, I’d had this feeling that my career was already planned out for me and that I was simply putting things into motion the day I pointed to Shawn Johnson on TV and said, “I want to do that, too!” I almost can’t imagine that one event not happening—my whole life would be entirely different. But it did happen, and nearly eleven years later I was getting out of bed on January 1, 2016, knowing not only that gymnastics was what I was supposed to be doing but also knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that 2016 was my year.

  I came out of my bedroom and sat down at the table with my family and said, “Guys, it’s time.” I’m not sure they knew what I meant, so I continued, “Watch where I’m going to be in July. I promise you, I’m going to show the world why I love artistic gymnastics so much.” They all looked at me with big smiles and my mom said, “We know, baby.”

  Each of my family members will tell you that they’ve always sensed I was destined for something special
. I’m all about embracing life in a big way, and whether I was going to be a gymnast, a dancer, or an actress, they knew I loved putting myself out there and entertaining others. Even the way I tumbled on my brother’s bed after school, showing him moves I’d just made up, and the way my little toddler body mimicked my siblings’ kicks in their karate class, suggested I was going to be an athlete or a performer or both. When my family and I went on a cruise to the western Caribbean, I was thrilled because they had a karaoke night. I was only five years old and I bounded onto the stage and started singing a Mariah Carey song. I didn’t know all the lyrics, so my sister joined me and started to sing along, too. But I pushed her aside and was like, “No, no, no. Go away. I got it!” I’ve learned how to share the limelight better since then, but the point of this story is that I don’t get embarrassed easily. Whenever I falter, I pick myself up and try again.

  While my whole family was sure I’d succeed at something big one day, it was Marcus who predicted I’d go to the Olympics. He first called it when he was in seventh grade, and later, his Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts would also prove he’d accurately predicted it. He was telling the world about me through social media as early as his freshman year in high school—that was seven years ago! In fact, on Marcus’s high school prom night, the two of us took a photo together that he posted online. The caption read Before prom with a future Olympian. After I made the Olympic team, some of his friends remembered that picture and found it. He claims it’s undeniable evidence that he knew all along I’d make it.

  I kicked off 2016 by making my debut as a senior on the US team. When I returned to Italy to compete in the annual City of Jesolo competition in March, I was going as one of the “big girls.” My faith in myself was at an all-time high, and I was so excited because I’d wanted to be a senior for so long.