Straight from The Horse’s Mouth

This is how a gymnast saved a tractor:

It began with Olga Korbut. She was the pixie darling of the 1972 Olympics; fearless and pigtailed and had an infectious smile. From my television she flipped and twirled into my heart creating a craving for the sport.

I stood on my head and cartwheeled through childhood and at 10 yrs began lessons. On my first day we lined up for the vault. I'd never been on a runway or jumped on a springboard, but I skittered at warp speed anyway. A spotter stood customarily in place to assist my fledgling flight over the horse. My feet hit the springboard and without realizing that certain angles were required to launch my body in the right direction (up) I slammed like a linebacker into the equipment creating a wham! that echoed through the gym. Though the coach's arms had missed me, I was neither injured nor deterred. After we recovered from shock and embarrassment he trained me to fly properly.

Eventually I excelled and began teaching at 15. I taught for many years and once did a summer with Bela Karolyi, of Nadia and Mary Lou fame.

Experience is gained by 'doing' and of course can be assimilated by reading. I read every book ever written on gymnastics, I absorbed it all. At some point in all of this education something clicked inside and experience became instinct.

One summer day I was walking my young nephews at my parent's farm near Buffalo. We were half way down the hillside drive. At the top was Dad's big blue tractor, at the bottom was the big blue lake. (Mind you, this is the tractor I had never driven and to this day Dad will not let me...I suppose he doesn't want me to get hurt.)

A commotion came behind me with one voice yelling "Get out of the way!", the other "Stop the tractor!" With no driver, it was headed straight for us and the water. Dad and brother were running and yelling after it, frantically. I could hear the tires tumble over the gravel as it picked up speed, coming loudly and swiftly nearer to us.

Then everything went into slow motion; time was altered and there seemed to be plenty of room to figure this out. The thoughts in my mind weren't words but a lightning fast sequence of options and possibilities. I shooed the boys out of the way and with timing and grace (and a lot of adrenalin) I sprinted towards the riderless farm machine. No thinking, no decisions, just acting now. Using an imaginary springboard I leaped between the wheels and landed in the seat, grasping for whatever levers I could find, hoping one would be the brake. Just feet from the water's edge disaster was averted, the boys thought I was supergirl, and the tractor didn't even get it's tires wet. It took a moment to realize what risk I had taken; instinct had taken over.

All of you have similar stories to tell. THM invites you to come in with friends and share a coffee and some tales. (Believe me, we've heard a few good ones already!) If you have no adventures you can pick up one our books and begin developing your own passions and instincts. Visit our web site www.thehorsesmouth. squarespace.com or give us a call 903-322-2180. You can get on our e mail list at thehorsesmouth@ ymail.com for updates, and as always just visit. Come on in, the air conditioning is fine!