I don’t know if there are any words that can truly say goodbye to what you’ve loved more than your own life.
But today I’m going to try. With a trembling hand and eyes full of memories.
The time has come to say goodbye to gymnastics.
Where do I begin? Perhaps with that little girl who used to walk into the gym with her hair always flying about and her eyes full of dreams. Who would climb everywhere, who never stood still, who loved to feel her body soar.
It all started like that, almost as a game. But that game soon became my path, my home, my world. Gymnastics has given me everything.
It taught me strength, sacrifice, discipline. But above all, it taught me never to give up.
I lived through every competition with my heart in my mouth and my hands trembling. From the first regional competitions, where even just putting on the leotard was an immense thrill, to the national competitions where every point counted, every thousandth of a point made the difference.
And then the away trips, the tears over a low score, the small victories that only I knew how great they were.
Every medal, every round of applause, every fall: it’s all etched inside me as if it happened yesterday.
I learnt to suffer in silence, to pick myself up when it seemed impossible, to fight even when I had no strength left.
How many nights I spent awake, thinking about that mistake, that botched jump, that tenth of a point that had kept me off the podium.
But every time, I returned to the gym with more hunger, more heart, more love.
Having to give up on the Olympics was one of the darkest moments of my career.
A dream shattering before your eyes, with nothing you can do about it.
I thought it was over.
I thought I had nothing left to give. But I was wrong.
I stayed.
I fought.
I looked up again and started dreaming once more.
And in the end, I made it to Paris.
I felt that unique adrenaline rush that only the Olympics can give. I gave it my all. I left my heart on that platform. And I did it.
I won an Olympic medal.
