stepped out the door and down the stairs, and the thousands of Romanians who had come to meet our plane overwhelmed me. Weâd gone to countless important competitions before, but never had we been met by cheering fans or had Nicolae Ceausescu order a celebration for our arrival. I recall that I had been carrying a doll in my hands and that I was crying because I had lost it after somebody pulled on her leg. It was scaryâall those years when nobody cared and now, suddenly, everyone was pushing, pulling, and trying to touch me.
We were taken to an awards ceremony, and Ceausescu personally gave out Romanian government awards to the Karolyis and the gymnasts. I had never met Ceausescu before, and it was like meeting the president of the United States. It was an honor for a kid, a big deal. Politics back then was a different world, and I had nothing to do with it.
So, you want to know what changed. Nothing . . . at first. I went back to Onesti and back to the experimental school, classes, and practices. My father still didnât have a car; my mother was still a homemaker. I received a monetary award from my government for my medals but nothing too big; after all, I lived in a Communist country. I was also still receiving a monthly stipend from the government for being an elite gymnast, but my mother was in charge of all that money. Iâm lucky that she saved it because in the end, I desperately needed what she put away for me.
Please donât assume, like everyone else does, that when I won the 1976 all-around gold medal I became a wealthy girl. Perhaps youâve heard rumors, but our country was closed to foreign journalists, and the only information that got out to the world was what my government chose to share. Sometimes it was the truth, but more often than not it was self-serving. I still lived in a simple dormitory a few minutes from home. I returned every weekend to my familyâs house, but in truth, I was bored there because at the dorms, I had twenty other girls to play with. And at home, my mother still made me do the dishes.
There was no time to rest on my laurels. No one is selected off the streets for the Olympics. You work your way up to it. Despite what my mother and I originally may have thought, gymnastics was not exactly a hobby for me. Not if I wanted to succeed, avoid injuries, and be the best in the world. Plus, Bela was not the kind of guy who would tell me that I was perfect. He always said I could do better, and I lived under that. He never put too much emphasis on those times when I did something great. It was always about the next time.
So when I returned to school, I still woke up every morning and had breakfast at 7:00 A.M. and then went to the first training session from 8:00 until 11:00. I went to classes from 11:00 until 2:00 P.M., rested for a few hours, and then headed back to the gym for late practice until 7:30. We ate dinner after our second practice, did homework, and then had lights out by 10:00 P.M.
Our meals were all very regimentedâmostly grilled meat, fish, and salads and fruit. We didnât eat any pastas or bread because the team doctor didnât believe they were important components of a well-balanced meal. The doctor designed a menu based on what each week demanded nutritionally, such as protein, vegetables, fruit, and milk. Meals were not about enjoyment but about nutrients. You ate what was on your plate, whether you liked it or not. There were a few exceptions. I liked fried cheese, and the team doctor let me have it once a week. We all loved chocolate and were given a piece each day before training because the doctor believed it gave us energy. To this day, I love chocolateâprobably because I was only allowed to have a little of it as a child.
You asked in your last letter if the rumors about Bela Karolyiâs cruelty as a coach were true. I want to try to put that question into perspective by asking you a few questions. How much can
We were taken to an awards ceremony, and Ceausescu personally gave out Romanian government awards to the Karolyis and the gymnasts. I had never met Ceausescu before, and it was like meeting the president of the United States. It was an honor for a kid, a big deal. Politics back then was a different world, and I had nothing to do with it.
So, you want to know what changed. Nothing . . . at first. I went back to Onesti and back to the experimental school, classes, and practices. My father still didnât have a car; my mother was still a homemaker. I received a monetary award from my government for my medals but nothing too big; after all, I lived in a Communist country. I was also still receiving a monthly stipend from the government for being an elite gymnast, but my mother was in charge of all that money. Iâm lucky that she saved it because in the end, I desperately needed what she put away for me.
Please donât assume, like everyone else does, that when I won the 1976 all-around gold medal I became a wealthy girl. Perhaps youâve heard rumors, but our country was closed to foreign journalists, and the only information that got out to the world was what my government chose to share. Sometimes it was the truth, but more often than not it was self-serving. I still lived in a simple dormitory a few minutes from home. I returned every weekend to my familyâs house, but in truth, I was bored there because at the dorms, I had twenty other girls to play with. And at home, my mother still made me do the dishes.
There was no time to rest on my laurels. No one is selected off the streets for the Olympics. You work your way up to it. Despite what my mother and I originally may have thought, gymnastics was not exactly a hobby for me. Not if I wanted to succeed, avoid injuries, and be the best in the world. Plus, Bela was not the kind of guy who would tell me that I was perfect. He always said I could do better, and I lived under that. He never put too much emphasis on those times when I did something great. It was always about the next time.
So when I returned to school, I still woke up every morning and had breakfast at 7:00 A.M. and then went to the first training session from 8:00 until 11:00. I went to classes from 11:00 until 2:00 P.M., rested for a few hours, and then headed back to the gym for late practice until 7:30. We ate dinner after our second practice, did homework, and then had lights out by 10:00 P.M.
Our meals were all very regimentedâmostly grilled meat, fish, and salads and fruit. We didnât eat any pastas or bread because the team doctor didnât believe they were important components of a well-balanced meal. The doctor designed a menu based on what each week demanded nutritionally, such as protein, vegetables, fruit, and milk. Meals were not about enjoyment but about nutrients. You ate what was on your plate, whether you liked it or not. There were a few exceptions. I liked fried cheese, and the team doctor let me have it once a week. We all loved chocolate and were given a piece each day before training because the doctor believed it gave us energy. To this day, I love chocolateâprobably because I was only allowed to have a little of it as a child.
You asked in your last letter if the rumors about Bela Karolyiâs cruelty as a coach were true. I want to try to put that question into perspective by asking you a few questions. How much can
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