I grew up lying under bars and lounging under foam
With chalk as my makeup and my fingers as my comb.
Every surface was a table, a playground, and a bed.
Regardless of the time of day or what the coaches said.
Though I loved my teammates, my best friends were my grips,
And they weren't really christened until stained by cuts and rips.
Handstands were morning staple more than coffee will ever be,
And the coaches made it that much easier by being family.

I grew up chatting under bars and giggling under foam
Believing leos and tape were worth more than silver and chrome.
The tramp was made for seat drop, wars like the low bar was made for scars,
And we spent less time training than fighting over which beam was ours.
I could sprint across the floor, past mats and wires, without fault,
But it wouldn't be a practice without running into the vault.
Injuries, fear,a nd obstacles were part of every day,
But good times, fun, and laughter were never far away.

I grew up dancing under bars and playing under foam.
Something I'll remember no matter where I roam.
Skills, routines, scores, medals- these things are all great.
But not as much as your passion and the memories you create.
It's not about what you do, what you did, or if you got far;
It's about how it stays inside of you, a part of who you are.
It;s not what the eyes see but what the mind sees that's true,
And seeing through the mind of a gymnast is an interesting view.

I grew up hoping under bars and dreaming under foam,
In a place my heart will always and forever call its home.