Hearing

My favorite unit in high school gym class was gymnastics. Not that I was any good at it. Decked out in our light-blue gym uniforms (one-piece cotton bloomers with a snap front that were the antithesis of style), I would attempt a simple vault over the horse, try to calm my fear of heights as I walked on the balance beam (in sneakers!), and swing from the uneven bars. The cool girls could do a penny drop. Not I.

Even still, I enjoyed the challenge (except the beam). Maybe because I was just competing against myself and not in my usual role as the weak link in a team sport. Maybe because it made me feel strong. My one big accomplishment in my senior year was clambering up a thick rope to the high gym ceiling, something I never expected to be able to do.

Maybe that’s why gymnastics has always been my favorite part of the Summer Olympics, especially watching young women achieve seemingly impossible feats of strength and coordination. Even if I could never do that myself, I thrill at their achievements. This year was supercharged by Simone Biles’s triumphant return. What a marvel to behold!

Much as I admire Biles for her extraordinary athleticism, I admire her all the more from what I learned in a profile in The New York Times: that Biles and I share a particular love—of turtles. As a young athlete, she went at her own, unique pace to build her repertoire, not caving to unrealistic goals set by coaches. She knew herself and what she needed to learn and grow, in her own time. Her mother, Nellie, called Simone her “little turtle.” According to the article, Nellie used to tell her, “Don’t worry that you are moving slowly. Just be sure of what direction you are going in.” Before every meet, she would give Simone a tiny porcelain turtle. Others picked up on the theme, and she now has a huge collection.

I, too, have a collection of all kinds of turtle figurines. This started when I was a marketing director at a small New England college. I used to give little plastic turtles to my staff as a reminder to take the time to do the job right, rather than rushing and having to spend twice as long fixing it. This guidance was deeply appreciated, especially in a pressure cooker environment rife with unrealistic demands.

Over the years, family and friends have added to my collection, which resides on the bookcase in my home office. I am known for fawning over turtles in their natural habitats. I remind myself that often the best way to solve a problem is to approach it as a turtle, especially when it comes to figuring out the plot in the novel that is bedeviling me at present. Or managing yet another digital ulcer. Turtles have become my go-to metaphor for resisting social and cultural pressure to always be doing, busy, rushing, as a measure of self-worth and accomplishment.

Biles astounds us with her superhuman athleticism, but she became a GOAT (greatest of all time) gymnast by taking her time to get there, including her difficult and courageous decision three years ago to drop out of the Tokyo Olympics when she knew she needed to stop. She draws on her own mental health struggles and early years in foster care to promote the non-profit Friends of the Children, which supports mentors of foster children and other kids at-risk, at an annual international gymnastics invitational in Houston. Sales of a toy mascot help to raise money for the non-profit.

It is, of course, a turtle.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.