Grace, Gold, and Glory Page 9

  At first, Mom considered moving our whole family to Texas so that I could be trained by a well-known coach there. “I have family in Dallas,” Mom said, “so maybe that’s an option.”

  When Texas didn’t work out, Mom finally picked up her phone and called Liang Chow. He remembered her from that clinic at Excalibur, especially since she’d driven him to the airport afterward.

  “Gabrielle would like to train with you,” Mom explained once she got Chow on the line.

  He paused. “I’ve got to think about whether to take her,” he finally said, explaining that he didn’t encourage gymnasts to jump from gym to gym. “It might be too late to change coaches so close to the Olympic games — and I don’t know if I have enough time to get her ready.”

  “But she’s convinced you are the only one who can train her,” Mom responded. “Is there any way you can take her?”

  Chow hesitated again. “Well, my position as a coach is to help kids achieve their dreams,” he continued. “If a gymnast wants to reach for higher possibilities, like Gabby does, then I think it’s fair for me to at least take a look at her. Let’s schedule a one-week trial for Gabrielle in Iowa.”

  I was ecstatic. That same day, Mom and I began making preparations to fly to West Des Moines. In the meantime, Chow called a high-level staff member at USA Gymnastics to talk through the possibility of coaching me. “You have to train this kid,” the USAG member told Chow. “Team USA needs her.” So before Mom and I could even pack our dental floss, the phone rang. It was Chow. “I will take her,” he announced. And those were the four little words that changed my life forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  You can never cross the ocean unless you have the

  courage to lose sight of the shore.

  — CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

  I KNOW WHAT TO PACK FOR A WEEKEND — BUT WHAT IN THE WORLD DO you pack for a two-year journey that might end at the London Olympics? I stood over the huge black suitcase in my bedroom with most of my must-take possessions in a big pile. I’d gathered everything from my passport and my grips to my team gear. “I wish I had a camera,” I told Joy, who laid on her bed and watched me pack in the middle of the floor. “I’ll just take pictures on my phone and send them to you.”

  Mom and I visited a couple discount department stores where I could find a few items to take with me. As for shoes, I bought a pair of brown boots and Vans in a variety of colors — gray and purple, blue, and black. I got my first pair of heels — make that black-velvet kitten heels, thank you! — in case I ever needed to dress up. Mom also bought me jeggings (a cross between jeans and leggings, for the uninitiated), a few cute tops to wear with them, some jogging suits — and, of course, a long, heavy coat. I’d definitely need that in Iowa, where temperatures can dip far below freezing during winter. By this time, I’d made the full transformation from tomboy to fashionista — and though we didn’t have much money to spend, I wanted to show up stylish. Mom agreed. “You need to go out looking good or don’t go out at all!” she’d often joke.

  The plan was for Mom and me to fly together to West Des Moines. She’d stay with me for two weeks to help me transition, and Arielle, who couldn’t change her work schedule to take the whole trip, would join us for the second week. Arielle knew Mom would need her on the flight back home, because leaving me in Iowa (when she barely even let her children spend the night away from home!) was almost more than she could bear.

  How I wished they could stay beside me for a month, a year … a lifetime! At one point, Arielle had actually considered going with me to live in Iowa — the two of us would get an apartment, and she’d work while I trained. But money was still tight, so my sister thought it was best to stay in Virginia and avoid any additional financial burdens. Plus Mom had arranged for me to reside with a host family — a group of strangers in a city I’d never even thought about visiting, much less calling home.

  Gabrielle started formal gymnastics in 2002 at age 6. This photo was taken in 2004, the year she went on to become the Virginia State Champion.

  The girls take some time to goof off!

  Gabrielle shows grace and beauty during her floor routine at the 2006 US Classic.

  Gabrielle on the balance beam during practice at the 2012 AT&T American Cup at Madison Square Garden.

  This aerial view shows Gabrielle’s perfect form on the balance beam during the women’s Olympic gymnastics trials. Gabrielle won the Olympic trials, which earned her the only

  Nicknamed “Flying Squirrel” for her amazing aerial skills on the uneven bars, Gabrielle competes here during day one of the 2012 Visa Championships.

  Gabrielle competes on the vault in the Individual All-Around final of the London 2012 Olympic Games.

  Coach Liang Chow hugs Gabrielle after her performance in the floor exercise in the Women’s Individual All-Around final.

  Gabrielle celebrates on the podium after winning the gold medal in the Artistic Gymnastics Women’s Individual All-Around final.

  Gabrielle, Mckayla Maroney, Alexandra Raisman, and Kyla Ross celebrate winning team gold in the 2012 Summer Olympics.

  Gabrielle and her mom pose for a picture at Citi Field in New York City.

  Gabrielle, right, hugs her aunt, Bianca Williams, after she arrives at the Norfolk (VA) International Airport on Thursday, Aug. 16, 2012, for a visit to her home in Virginia Beach, VA. At far left is Douglas’s sister, Arielle Hawkins, brother, John Douglas, left, and her uncle, David Jemmott, right.

  Gabrielle with the Partons — her host family in West Des Moines, Iowa.

  Travis Parton hugs Gabrielle immediately after she wins her individual gold medal.

  Gabrielle attends the ‘America’s Got Talent’ post show red carpet at New Jersey Performing Arts Center August 15, 2012.

  First Lady Michelle Obama and Gabrielle chat during an interview with host Jay Leno in August 2012.

  Gabrielle and her teammates Kyla Ross, Jordyn Wieber, Aly Raisman, and McKayla Maroney are interviewed by Bob Costas after winning team gold.

  A few months before I left for Iowa, it was spring break— which meant that I had a rare week off from both school and the gym. So John and I pulled out our bikes (mine was pink) and pedaled around the neighborhood. After a couple days of rolling around, I was so bored. “Man, I wish a dog would come chase us,” I joked. I made this comment at least twice a day for the next two days.

  True story: On the final day of our spring break, a pit bull came out of nowhere and bounded toward us. “Aaaagh!” I screamed.

  In an instant, John and I stood up on our bikes and pedaled as fast and as hard as we could.

  “He’s gaining on us!” John yelled, with sweat forming on his forehead. A moment later, the pit bull got close enough to rip off my left blue Nike with his teeth. I panicked and tried to keep pedaling.

  “Go faster!” John shouted. But I couldn’t, because we’d rolled right onto a grassy area where our wheels wouldn’t rotate as quickly unless I shifted gears. I kid you not: just as the pit bull was raising up on his back legs to leap up onto me, a guardian angel appeared — in the form of another dog! When the pit bull heard his fellow canine barking, he got distracted, turned away from me, and raced toward the other dog, which was inside a gated yard. But before we could race home on our bikes, can you believe that dog came after us again?

  “He’s still chasing us, John!” I shouted. Just as the pit bull was crossing the street in our direction, our second angel came to the rescue — a red Toyota sedan backed up into the pit bull. The dog didn’t die, but he began limping enough to allow my brother and me time to get home. John was like, “Go, go, go, go — pick it up, Brie!” Once we were inside our gate, we shut it and raced into the town house. So scary!

  Someone wise once said this: “Be careful what you ask for — you just might get it.” And whether you’re requesting a dog-chasing adventure or a trip to the other side of the country, here’s what I can tell you for sure: Asking is one thing. Getting is another.
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  On my last day at Excalibur, Mom told my coach that I was moving on — by then, she’d already had three meetings to discuss the possibility of my departure. Mom again explained what we’d all known for months: I needed different coaching in order to lift my skills to the next level. I cleaned out my locker and hugged some of my teammates. A few of us cried together. Even though it was sad to say good-bye to my friends, I knew there were exciting days to come. When I walked out the front door of Excalibur for the final time, I never looked back — mostly because there was far too much to see, do, and experience just over the horizon.

  The last item I threw in my suitcase was my blue-and-white stuffed whale, Willy. On my fourteenth birthday, after eating at the Cheesecake Factory, Miss Carolyn and I went shopping at Kohl’s. I spotted Willy on the sales rack.

  “Do you want him?” Miss Carolyn asked. I looked over at Willy’s big head, his huge eyes with those adorable eyelashes, and there was only one answer I could give — an emphatic yes. Since that day, Willy’s soft, furry body has been right next to me on my bed and with me at every national camp. So I wouldn’t even dream of going all the way to Iowa without him. I placed him on top of the other belongings in my suitcase and zipped the bag all the way around.

  One giant suitcase and one big backpack — that’s all I took. “If you need something from Virginia,” Mom said, “I can ship it to you.” I wondered, Is it possible to ship a mother, three siblings, and two dogs to Iowa?

  A few days before my departure, my father’s family hosted a small good-bye party for me — Mom had told my dad I was moving to Iowa. Then on the evening before my flight, I said my good-byes to Joyelle and John, since I knew they’d be sleeping when we arose for our six o’clock flight the next morning. We didn’t talk too much about the separation to come; it hadn’t quite hit us just how long our months apart would feel. So that evening, we just hugged and whispered a few rounds of I miss you’s and I love you’s before we all went to bed.

  The next morning, as Mom loaded the car with our suitcases, my dog sat in the living room. “Bye, Zoway,” I said before I closed the door. A moment later, I reopened the door. “Bye, Zoway,” I said again louder, as if it hadn’t registered with him first time around. Zoway just looked at me like, “Would you please just go ahead and leave already?”

  Later, on the way to the airport, I told my mother, “Zoway is going to forget me.”

  “Will you stop it?” Mom said. “Dogs have really good memories. Zoway will always know who you are.” More than two years and one extraordinary adventure later, I’d finally return home to discover for myself Mom was right.

  Chapter Fourteen

  And we know that all things work together

  for good to those who love God, to those who are

  the called according to His purpose.

  —ROMANS 8:28, NKJV

  ON THE SEPTEMBER 2010 AFTERNOON MOM AND I ARRIVED AT CHOW’S Gymnastics & Dance Institute in West Des Moines, I came ready to sweat. “I want to take you through a normal four-hour session,” Chow had told me beforehand by phone. “That way, I can get a feel for where you are.” And what was a “normal” session at Chow’s gym? A whole-body workout that included thirty minutes of conditioning, followed by a sequential rotation on vault, bars, beam, and floor. We ended with about twenty minutes of conditioning and flexibility exercises.

  After the session, Chow sat down to chat with Mom and me. “My dream is to get to the Olympics,” I stated with confidence while a drop of sweat made its way down my back.

  Chow paused. “Well, you haven’t given me much time,” he finally said. “Your difficulty level and physical condition need a lot of upgrading. I don’t know how hard you’re willing to work — but there is a lot of work to be done.”

  He paused again, just long enough for me to interject. “I will give you one hundred percent every day,” I told Chow, looking directly into his eyes.

  Chow cleared his throat. “I’ll be very straight with you,” he said. “I see the possibility for you to go to the Olympics, but I cannot guarantee it will happen. What I can promise you is this: I’ll do my best to get you ready.”

  When it came to training, Chow took a less-is-more approach: I only had twenty-eight hours of sessions each week, versus thirty-six at my previous gym. Why might fewer hours bring a stronger result? Because the twenty-eight hours were more intently focused on skill building — we did no less than fifteen routines each day. “Every coach has his or her own methods,” Chow would often remind me, “and one approach isn’t necessarily right or wrong. It’s about choosing an approach that works best to prepare a particular gymnast.” In my case, Chow’s approach was a winner.

  Long before Chow was a coach, he was a gymnast. As a child in Beijing, China, Chow began his training at age five, after he was chosen by his district club because his tumbling skills showed promise. For many years, he competed on the men’s Chinese national team, where he won the World Cup National Championships in 1990. Chow then relocated to the United States with his wife, Liwen. (PS: Everyone calls her Li for short.) Moving to America was his aunt’s idea: She was already here, completing her Ph.D. at the University of Iowa in Des Moines. When Chow arrived with very little English under his belt, he took the one job he knew he could excel at: assistant gymnastics coach for the men’s program at the University of Iowa. When five of his students made the national team, Chow was asked to take on the women’s team. He did — but, over time, he realized he could coach his students even better if he started with them when they were younger. That’s why Chow and Li eventually opened their own training center in 1998. Within five years, business was booming enough for him to build a second facility on his eleven acres of land. The youngest gymnasts he trains usually gather in the new building; the older girls meet in the original building. That’s the building where Chow and I had our first official training session in fall 2010.

  That’s also where I met Shawn Johnson, the Olympic champion whose interactions with Chow at the Beijing Olympics had eventually led me to Des Moines. Back when I arrived, Shawn was still training hard to make an Olympic comeback — a knee injury eventually put that dream out of reach.

  “Hello, Gabrielle,” she said with a smile, extending her hand when I arrived at Chow’s gym. I greeted her and put my palm in hers. Afterward, I was like, “Oh my gosh, Shawn just touched me! I’m training with an Olympic athlete!” It was pretty thrilling. Over the following months, we trained side by side and shared so many good, hard laughs — and when Chow and Li weren’t training me, Shawn offered me additional coaching and advice on the sidelines. I already admired her from afar — but up close, I respected her even more, mostly because she goes after what she wants. She has a “catch me if you can” attitude that makes her mentally strong.

  Not long after I began training with Chow, I knew I’d made the right choice. For starters, my body transformed practically overnight. I left Virginia Beach weighing eighty-four pounds with moderate tone. Under Chow’s guidance, I quickly put on ten pounds of pure muscle mass and developed the most well-defined guns I’ve ever had.

  I also had an up-close experience of the warmth I’d felt between Chow and Shawn Johnson at the Beijing Olympics. What makes Chow so amazing isn’t just his competence as a coach; it’s his care for and belief in his students. “If you have the talent and you work hard enough,” he often told me and my teammates, “you can achieve anything.” His own journey from Beijing to Des Moines is certainly proof of that.

  Saying good-bye to John and Joyelle was pretty tough — but hugging Mom and Arielle for the last time before they flew back to Virginia was even harder. “I love you, baby girl,” Mom told me, cupping my face in her palms. “Remember, you can Skype me anytime. I’m always just one call away, and God is with you all the time.”

  I stayed temporarily with one host family and eventually moved to my more permanent home away from home — with Travis and Missy Parton and their four daughters. Mom settled me
into the first family’s home then returned a few months later to visit me at the Partons’ house. By the time I moved into the Partons’ place, Mom, Travis, and Missy had already talked at length — about everything from their parenting approach to the faith Mom had raised me with. I was relieved and happy when Mom told me the Partons were Christians who attended church — at least we already had something in common. I didn’t actually meet the Partons in person until my short time with that initial family had ended.

  I was busy doing my homework at Chow’s gym when Missy first approached me — one of her daughters, Leah, trains at Chow’s place, so Missy had arrived to pick her up. Mom and Missy had also arranged for Missy to connect with me on this particular day.

  “Hello, Gabrielle, I’m Missy,” she said, flashing a broad smile. “I’m the one who’s going to be hosting you.” As I greeted her in return, a single thought reeled through my brain: Oh my goodness, this woman looks so much like Katherine Heigl! Everything from Missy’s long blonde tresses to the way she laughed reminded me of the actress.

  A few moments later, I met her daughter, then just six. She had golden hair and bluish-green eyes. “This is Leah,” Missy introduced. “Hey, Leah,” I said, smiling— but Leah didn’t say a word. “Why are you being so shy?” Missy said with a chuckle.

  Missy drove us to her house, which seemed like such a long distance back then, mostly because I didn’t know exactly where we would end up. The whole time, as we drove onto gravel roads and then kept going … and going … and going, I was thinking, Where in the world does this family live? The whole way there, Missy and I exchanged small talk.