Masters Gymnastics World Cup 2026

In November, I committed to training for my first competition season. In January, I signed up to compete in the Masters World Cup. After training hard for six months to perform on a world stage, the day finally came and went. Here’s the story.

Read My Debut at the Red Hawk Classic for the beginning of this story.

After a rainy, gloomy drive from downstate New York to Cambridge, Massachussetts, my husband and I arrived at our hotel. We checked in, unpacked, and I eagerly hung up all of my competition gear. We had the evening to unwind and settle down and had a lovely meal, just the two of us, at a restaurant called Pagu. After dinner, we walked back to the hotel to shake out our legs and get some fresh air.

Once we returned to our room, I felt myself sliding into automatic shut-down-for-the-night mode and went to bed at 9:30. While I didn’t have to wake up super early, I wanted to be very well-rested for Sunday’s meet. For me, it would be a physical and mental marathon. I think I made it through six minutes of a Friends episode and then it was lights out.

At 6 a.m., the hotel alarm clock started buzzing, Some sadist guest before us decided it would be fun to mess with us. So much for sleeping late. We lounged in bed for a bit, then met Tammy and Frederic, Lisette and her best friend Keimya for breakfast. I packed a Muscle Milk and a protein bar in my gym bag, but solid carbs and protein for breakfast would be required to front load my energy.

At 10 a.m., we headed back to the room where I went into meet prep. I showered, got dressed in my sparkly leo, slicked back my hair, and waited patiently for the minutes to pass. I tend to do things early, so there is usually some down time before it’s time to get going.

Though relatively calm, I had entered a nervous peeing phase. The anticipatory excitement made my nervous system tingly. Fortunately, Chris is the best companion for me to lean on. I know he worries that I’ll get hurt, but he also knows that I’m hyper-focused about keeping my body intact. So, instead of worrying, he does a great job balancing being attentive and giving me the space I need. It gave me a sense of peace knowing he was there.

Time to go!

We all met back in the lobby at noon and walked to the gym together. It was a brisk May afternoon, but we were so activated that the cold was an afterthought. We chatted and laughed together, repeating our mantra of No Whammies. I felt centered and excited to step into my power with that group.

We reached MIT’s Dupont Gymnasium after walking through a labyrinth of hallways and stairwells. It was an old-style building with no air conditioning where the bathrooms were 4000 degrees warmer than the gym. Even the liquid soap in the dispenser was about 100 degrees. (Not kidding.)

Our beloved spectators found seats in the bleachers and Tammy, Lisette and I found a corner to keep our stuff. The MAG (Men’s Adult Gymnastics) competition was still underway, so we had some extra time to tape joints, warm up and familiarize ourselves with the lay of the land. In the warm gym, my splits were better than they’ve ever been.

At about 2:00, it was the women’s turn to start the official warmup. I learned from Lisette at the Red Hawk Classic not to blow all my energy on the warm up. I had plenty of time to prepare my body slowly. Around 2:30, the WAG (Women’s Adult Gymnastics) group was ready to begin.

Embattled with Mr. Lizard

Just walking into this new gym space made Mr. Lizard scurry around in the back of my brain and give me pause. Everything requires a major mental re-adjustment. The layout of the space, the texture of the equipment and mats, the level of activity and the number of people doing things all at once was a sensory overload that I hadn’t experienced since FlipFest in August 2024.

I kept telling myself, You did it once, you can do it again. Remember who you are and what you can do. Everything would be handled in a moment to moment manner. After warmup, we were called to our first event. I met all the women in Squad D (the best squad). We were all in our fifties and sixties, organized, and supportive of each other. Even though it was a competition, we cheered each other on like we’ve been friends for years. That made all the difference in the battle with Mr. Lizard.

Learn more about Mr. Lizard here.

Rotation 1: Beam

Beam is by far my least favorite event. It’s hard for me to enjoy it, since I’m always afraid of falling off and hurting myself. To me it’s a stupid concept. A four inch slab of wood that’s four feet high, and you must do gymnastic-y stuff facing what I can only describe as mortal danger. I was glad it was the first event so I could get it out of the way and forget about it.

Since the Red Hawk Classic, I removed the forward roll from my routine, choosing instead to reserve my energy for the six elements that I could do pretty well with a little fluff in between. Even so, I got up for my practice run and fell off on my half turn. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest and Mr. Lizard scurrying wildly around my head.

Despite the discomfort of the half turn, everything else felt good. After trying the roundoff dismount, I decided I was just going to go for it. If I lost my balance, I’d just jump off like everyone else does.

When it was time for the real thing, I stood at the beam waiting for the judge’s signal and saluted on cue. I took a breath, placed my hands on the beam and hopped on. I worked my way through all of my routine elements, I didn’t fall, and my dismount was just about a stick.

Floor

I think I was most looking forward to doing this routine. It’s much more in my comfort zone than anything else, since it’s really just doing a dance with some inversions and light tumbling. It’s the event where I can lean into my natural skills and enjoy performing. I can also make adjustments on my feet, in case I get ahead of or behind the music.

Once the music was set up, I waited for my cue, saluted the judge, and took my starting position.

In that moment, my calf muscle started twitching from the forced arch of my foot, which I had to tap out a couple of times before the music started. Fortunately, it wasn’t of any consequence. After the beep, my split leap and extensions were long and straight, my handstands were comfortably squeezed, and I remembered everything in the routine. Even added a little tuck jump at the end of the roundoff rebound. Tammy thought it was the best performance to date (yay!)

Rotation 3: Vault

Vault was especially challenging. Everything about it was different from what I’m used to. The runway was really long and I had no idea where I needed to start. The vault apparatus was an actual vaulting table instead of the mats that I’m used to. I knew I’d have to set the vault at the lowest setting and it still felt like a mountain to climb. Just looking at it disrupted my confidence.

For my first practice, I basically ran into the vault table. I almost made the decision to scratch (not compete), but I wanted to give it one more try. As we say at Flipper’s, I needed to “whole-ass” my effort. Commit from beginning to end. On my second attempt, I did the handspring, but it was more like a headspring. It was an improvement from the first try because I actually went for it, but I knew I could do much better.

Then, the elders of Squad D took two springs out of the springboard. Basically, it allowed for better rebound and assistance over the vault table. The basic physics of it: Too many springs = too much resistance = no rebound. Too few springs = bottoming out the springboard and getting no rebound. The Goldilocks number was 5. My third and fourth tries were much more comfortable and I sailed right over the table. Gotta love physics.

When it was my turn to compete, I once again reminded myself: remember who you are and what you can do.

For a successful vault, you have to dig your feet in, almost marching or stomping into the runway to gain speed. Then you take off on one foot, punch the end of the springboard with two feet, trying to smash it into the floor. Either you’ll commit, reach your hands and fly, or you’ll careen chest first into a stationary table (been there already). Knowing those two options, it’s better to commit.

At the beginning of the run, I felt almost an out-of-body moment. As I gained speed, Mr. Lizard was still actively wiggling around. I made a subconscious choice to disassociate in a way that let me punch, reach and hurtle heels over my head to land safely on my feet on the other side. The whole activity takes about five seconds, but it is an intensely hyper-focused five seconds.

What was great was how supportive my squad was. They understood the mountain I was climbing and cheered loudly every time I landed on my feet.

In the end, both vault attempts were much better than I anticipated. I landed with very little extra bounce and saluted proudly after each one. Mr. Lizard was sent back to his hidey-hole.

Rotation 4: Bars

Bars was the last rotation. By that time, it had been well over two hours since the warmup and my energy was starting to wane. As it was, I started to feel a little woozy-ish before vault. Despite the risk of feeling nauseous, I drank the bottle of Muscle Milk to get some protein and quick carbs in, even though I wasn’t actually hungry. Juggling nerves and hyper-focus will do that to you.

When we finally got to the bars station, there was a bit of a back log. I asked Chris to get me the protein bar so I could bolster my energy a bit. Ever my emotional support human, he dutifully ran to my bag across the gym, retrieved it, and saved the day.

It was hard to stay loose but ready. When I finally took my warmup turn, things didn’t go so well. The bar was lower and more textured than I’m used to. I over-rotated the mill circle, ending in a comical monkey hang. I did get back up to finish the routine, and did the back hip circle, which was too loose and floppy. It made me a little wary about my upcoming performance. 

I rechalked my hands right before my turn and took a deep breath. I made sure the bar was set to the proper height, which instantly felt better. Then, I had to “whole ass it.” On the judge’s signal, I saluted, looked at the bar, and brought on She-Hulk. I can safely say that I nailed each skill: solid glide and pull-over, strong mill circle (no over-rotation!), and a textbook back hip circle. On the underswing dismount, I took a tiny step back. No complaints. 

Final thoughts on my first comp season

Overall, I am thrilled to have participated and proud of myself for overcoming the annoying wiggliness of Mr. Lizard for both of these meets. Considering all of my injuries and backslides over the years, I feel grounded in my resilience and will to progress. Despite the doubts that happen at every practice, I have gotten pretty good at banishing those thoughts. If there’s a safe way to lean into the technique I know, Mr. Lizard can go scratch.

My final scores

Beam: SV 13/ Final 12.2
Floor: SV 14.1/ Final 13.1
Vault: SV 15/ Final 13.3
Bars: SV 12.7/ Final 11.6

After the meet, many of us met at a dining hall to fill our bellies and talk to some of our new friends. Everyone was so sweet, and there was talk of next year’s Masters competition—in Tokyo. That meet will be in October 2027, after I retire from teaching. So…there may be thoughts about that. We shall see.

For now, I will return to Flipper’s and start working on some new skill upgrades. Let’s just say, I have been inspired.

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