Mental Breakthroughs 2

Two years ago, I wrote an article about some of the mental blocks I’ve managed, largely due to injuries sustained, and the mental breakthroughs I’ve made in trying to overcome them. Months later, I did a little research and realized that the reason for the blocks was due to our lizard brain, the part of our limbic system that fires up when the brain perceives a threat and sends us into protective mode. Often, it wreaks havoc on our gymnastic progress.

Progress isn’t linear

In April 2023, I started working on doing flips off of a 4-foot tower. I had a goal to eventually do a front tuck beam dismount and the tower was a good way to transition my bouncy trampoline skills to a different surface. Of course, my Lizard brain took a while to “go to sleep” and let me hurtle myself off from such a height, but it eventually happened.

@staceytirro

#Fronttuck beam #dismount prep progress. #thegeriatricgymnast #adultgymnastics #thisis51 #doinghardthings

♬ original sound – Stacey

I was making really good progress. I had even taken to doing back tucks off the tower, and I was feeling pretty good about myself.

@staceytirro

#Progress on #backtucks off the tower! #thegeriatricgymnast #adultgymnastics #thisis51 #doinghardthings #workinprogress #facingmyfears #mentalbreakthrough

♬ original sound – Stacey

The spring turned to summer, and my summertime gymnastics reverie was in full swing. I even developed the courage to start working on the roundoff back tuck that I had “lost” on the TumblTrak for several years. I was able to easily do it on the trampoline and figured I was getting stronger, my body was capable, and I should move forward and try to train it back into the rotation. I could do roundoffs and back tucks separately on the track as well, so now it was all about making the connection and getting comfortable with it.

One fateful August morning, I experienced both massive success and failure. I managed to chuck and land a couple, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Still nervous and probably not quite committed thoroughly enough, the last one I threw was the one that broke my foot on the landing. The full story is well-documented in the series Sometimes, You Break Yourself.

The long road to recovery

For many months, my attention shifted from advancing skills to healing and rehabilitation. I knew I had a long recovery ahead of me, and now being in my 50s, I was bracing myself for a bumpy road, both physically and mentally. After eight weeks of boot-hobbling, I graduated to wearing sneakers and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was still a long way from 100%, but I was no longer feeling like I’d never get back to normal.

The thing that I did right was keep up with strength and mobility exercises in every joint other than my ankle and foot. It made the transition out of my sneakers much smoother. By late-November, I felt comfortable bouncing on the trampoline in bare feet. Reaching that milestone felt really amazing, and erased a lot of the doubt I started to feel about what a full recovery would look like.

Once the trampoline was completely comfortable, I introduced harder surfaces one at a time: TumblTrak, spring board, floor, simple beam dismounts and jumping off the tower. The one thing I hadn’t tried was the front tuck.

To be honest, I wasn’t really thinking about getting that skill back. I’ve always had anxiety about jumping off of the tower in general, and since we rarely set it up, I was easily distracted by working on dozens of other skills. Then, a couple of weeks ago, Tammy decided to set it up so others could work on front handsprings and flips. As I sat by the trampoline, I saw it out of the corner of my eye, and a familiar pang hit me: it was time to try again. Get back on the horse…er…tower and do what you know you can do.

Once I set my sights on something, it’s hard to forget about it. Towards the end of class, I decided to climb up on the tower and see how I felt. I jumped off a few times to test my foot on the landing. I even did a front handspring, just to see what that felt like. All good. Now, I just needed to go for the tuck.

Mr. Lizard wakes up

Alas, the Lizard in my brain thought otherwise. I stood on that tower, frontal cortex all primed and ready to go, and I literally could not move. I kept telling myself “JUST GO!” but nothing happened. It was like I’d try to take a step and something was pushing me back. After about 20 seconds of staring at the landing mat, I decided that this would not be the day of the return of my tower tucks.

I brushed it off, made a social media post about it, and went on with my day. I decided maybe my brain was not ready for that kind of leap yet. And then, Tammy sent me this message:

Tammy has always believed in my abilities, sometimes more than I believed in them myself. After all, she sees what I do from the outside. And usually, she knows exactly what’s going on in my stubborn brain. If anyone could help get me over this hump, it was her.

Putting Lizard back to sleep

Sunday morning started as usual. Warm up for an hour, work on a bunch of trampoline skills, then teach class. Right on cue, I saw that Tammy had set up the towers, just in case I wanted to try again. About 10 minutes from the end of class, I decided it was time to do the work. I climbed off the trampoline platform, approached the tower, where some of the other women were working on their own personal hurdles, and I just stared at it for a minute. What would actually unlock the block? What would put the Lizard to sleep?

I think Tammy’s plan was to bore the Lizard with the easy stuff, starting with plain old tuck jumps off the tower. Feel the density of the mat under my feet, map out the step and punch, lift up quickly, knees up, feel the air, stretch to land. Rinse and repeat. The repetition calms the nervous system with familiarity. Familiarity reduces threat, rendering the Lizard unnecessary, putting it to sleep. After several rounds of jumping down and climbing back up, she said…

“Now do a flip.”

I gave her the familiar “you’re sure about that” stare and she offered the squishy top mat, which I jumped onto a couple of more times, in-between which I was both contemplating my life choices and anticipating whether or not Lizard was drowsy enough to let me unlock the block.

I knew it was time. I knew I’d be safe. At worst, I’d land on my butt on the squish mat. I needed to punch and throw. I climbed up, looked at the edge, visualized the moment of punch and engaging all of the front body muscles pulling me tightly into a ball. Then, click: the moment of the door unlocking. Lizard had relaxed for a moment. Step-punch-THROW-squish.

I threw it, and landed on my seat. Lots of cheers, I offered a prayer of thanks to the universe that I didn’t die, and a renewed faith that I could actually land this skill rushed over me. Wanting to capitalize on the moment, I quickly climbed back up: step-punch-THROW-squish once again, on my seat. Now it was about refining, holding the tuck a hair longer, and looking for the wall to land on my feet.

I climbed back up with renewed purpose and looked at the edge. Here goes everything…

Step-punch-THROW-SQUEEZE-look for the wall-FEET!

It was almost a shock that I stood up. It felt like the first time I had ever landed anything on my feet. After a small moment of celebration, I took advantage of the moment, ran back, climbed up, and threw the front tuck a couple more times, each time with a little more courage and more of a skippy-hop step back to the tower.

@staceytirro

BREAKTHROUGH!! #Fronttuck off the tower is BACK! #thegeriatricgymnast #adultgymnastics #thisisi52 #fitover50 #doinghardthings #nevertooold #nevertoolate #fear #progressisntlinear #workingthroughfear

♬ original sound – Stacey

I walked away from that moment with a beaming sense of pride and joy. In that moment, I conquered Mr. Lizard. I knew he’d wake up again for something else, but that would be another battle for another day.

This is the nature of adult gymnastics

I’ll offer a few parting thoughts about the journey of the Geriatric Gymnast:

• We feel strong, but maybe not as mobile as we’d like (or need) to be.
• We can visualize a skill, but not feel ready to proceed with it.
• We are impatient with ourselves, but must offer our soul a whole lot of grace when we try and fail.
• We don’t have to compare ourselves to anyone else when we train. We can follow our own timeline, without feeling competitive.
• We must embrace the phrase progress isn’t linear and live by it.
• We must learn from failure and not be afraid to go back to the fundamentals when we do.
• Our successes, no matter how small they might feel, are actually HUGE. We must celebrate and shout them out from the rooftops because what we do is extraordinary!

Read Commit to the Fundamentals to get a detailed look at some of the most basic skills that we need to acquire and maintain in our adult gymnastics journey.