The operative word for the day was “cold” both inside and out.
My husband and I attended our granddaughter’s gymnastic meet in the Twin Cities last weekend. It was held at the Minnesota State Fairgrounds. We, old-timers, referred to the building as a “hippodrome.” My granddaughter used the proper name, “The Lee and Rose Warner Coliseum.”
It didn’t really matter. Last Saturday found us in the spectator seats several rows off the floor. Below, our 15-year-old granddaughter’s gymnastic team gathered, along with an arena full of competing gymnasts.
I swallowed the impulse to shout and wave, “Yoohoo! Natalie!”
Dick said, “I hope we’re not sitting too close. She might get embarrassed.” But we needn’t have worried. Our daughter, Betsy, informed us that such behavior from parents was not allowed, but that grandparents could get away with pretty much anything.
When I looked at the organized chaos of some 200 girls, ages 10-15, I realized I’d never seen so much jumping, hopping, leaping, stretching and shaking of limbs. Dick and I, plus more grandparents sitting behind us, were the only bodies not making quick movements.
The scheduled starting time passed, but nothing happened. The gymnasts were still warming up, and competition hadn’t begun. “What’s holding things up?” I asked Betsy during one of her breaks as a volunteer parent worker.
“Cold.” She affirmed. “The coliseum is not supposed to be this cold, so we’re starting late so the girls can warm up.”
I realized I hadn’t taken off my down coat, extra warm vest, scarf and gloves, and I wasn’t about to. The building was frigid. I looked at the competitors, shivering in their skimpy leotards, and understood why they were all in continuous motion. The poor things were trying to stay warm. Recent outdoor temperatures had registered sub-zero, and apparently, the arena hadn’t gotten the heat it needed.
Colorful blankets began making appearances as parents searched for warm blankets. Finally, the squawk of a loudspeaker caught everyone’s attention, and the show began.
Suddenly, the participants were performing: red, purple, pink, and black sequined leotards flew on uneven parallel bars, soared over vaults, danced on mats and performed incredible feats on the beam. The floor literally sparkled.
I watched, snug in my down coat, thoroughly enjoying the action.
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned from living in northern Minnesota, it is to always, always bring warm clothes.
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