5. Paul Engemann - Push It To The Limit
Breathing deep and steady, arms and my whole posture ramrod straight. I quickly repositioned my hands, now facing the other direction, and relaxed my wrists.
Shifting my balance the tiniest bit forward I let gravity do its job. Legs together and angled slightly to the right, I relaxed my grip and vaulted over the right bar…just to fuck up the landing…again.
"So eine Scheiße!" I cursed, now glad that the coach was currently handling someone at the high bar.
I wasn't really annoyed, but it still rankled me the teeniest, tiniest bit, that some little boys were showing me up.
Three years and I was still bang-average. There hasn't been the same meteoric rise as with my judo skills, but it would have to do, I guessed.
Funnily enough, it had been judo, that had got me into my school's gymnastics club back in the day.
It had been 1988, Summer Olympics were in full swing in Seoul, and my manly pride had demanded that I show Uncle Peppe that Judo was really serious business.
He had been…thoroughly unimpressed by the men's final. To him, it had looked like grown men ruffling each other's clothes while stumbling around.
I had pursed my lips something fierce but had quickly forgotten my bruised ego when I had seen the sports news that had followed.
It had been a quick, like really quick, highlight reel of the men's gymnastics events, given that the Soviet Union had dominated by an almost obscene margin.
But it had been more than enough to make me sit upright then and there on the couch.
Best of all, it hadn't been necessary to change my schedule.
I just spent one and half hours three times a week longer at my school in the gym and tagged the time that I lost from my lunchtime shift in the pizzeria on to the end of my evening shift. Easy Peasy.
Stepping back into position at the springboard, I took a final calming breath again and flung myself between the bars. Grip firm, I let my momentum turn into a series of swings until I was back in the center of the old contraption, keen to work on my overhead balance and smoother transitions.
I had started with basic floor exercises, which, to be honest, I still greatly enjoyed.
My foundation had been more than solid from my judo training, but I had lacked the sheer flexibility and balance to really do anything fancy.
It hadn't been long until I had reached an acceptable level according to the coach, who while competent always seemed a bit bored. I had a feeling he was heading this whole extracurricular project probably for some monetary bonuses and because there was no one else. I didn't know, I didn't care.
Shortly after he had introduced me to Vaulting and instructed me to build up my arm strength to prepare myself for the various bars, the rings, and the pommel.
I was decent at those disciplines, strength wasn't a problem, I could happily work on it in my own room at home whenever I felt like it, but what regularly tripped me up was the slow controlled act of balancing and the transitioning between the various poses and maneuvers.
As slow as my progress was at these particular events, the more I made up for it at the Vault. I just loved sprinting top-speed down the runway, before hurdling onto the springboard and fling myself over the vaulting platform. The rest was all poise and strength, always carefully maintained, while this never ceased to put a big smile on my face.
It had put a bit of downer on my mood today when I had seen at the start, that we would concentrate on the rings and the parallel bars and had left the Vault equipment in the storeroom.
I wouldn't have minded some good cheer since I was in a strange mood for the last few weeks.
On one hand, I would be transferring to Gotham City High School soon and start my Junior years there.
On the other hand, during break, I would fly down to Florida and visit Claudia, which had me strangely excited.
High School, however…
I was so not looking forward to my high school years, primary school was more often than not a welcoming exercise in meditation, which I breathed through while I got along fine with my teachers.
High School…High School, I had seen enough movies to have at least a rough idea of what I could look forward to.
Hormone-drenched teenagers, loud and brightly colored individuals, and every single one of them oh so very special. I didn't even want to think what would happen to me when I would see my first jailbait dressed as a cheerleader giving me an eyeful. Without the internet and with my schedule as hectic as it was, I was easily able to stay away from anything…naughty… so far.
There were still some close-calls, much to Peppe's amusement, when I eyed some female guests, that were dressed 'to get it on' with their male dates, and I wasn't as subtle as I would have liked.
Coming out of another stumble, I couldn't help but let my shoulder sag in defeat.
'Maybe I should join the goth kids. That should keep other students and more importantly the girls away.'