4:56 PM. I'm sitting on the floor outside the gym waiting for everyone to get it together and get back to practice for another hour and a half. Spent the last hour trying to master a standing back tuck, which basically involves no hands-on-the-ground and is massacring my back - probably because I can't land it worth a crap. Regionals are in a few weeks, so hopefully I will get this down or break something before then that won't let me compete. Preferably the latter. Ask me if it's necessary that I can do this back tuck. Not at all - I'm already ranked number one on the floor (and the bars. and the vault). Ask me if I'm doing it so that Lauren no longer has any doubt about which of us is the better gymnast. I plead the 5th. And she never should have to begin with.

I'm playing this move and this routine and this sport up because I know I should let her have it because she cares more. I wonder why I feel the need to take it away from her - I mean, we're friends, so I should be happy to let her have the glory. But I won't because degree-of-difficulty 9.8 is what makes me, well, me. Without it, I'm not sure what people see.