He nods and silently watches his charge work. She squats with one leg extended, then winds up to perform a clunky pirouette with her foot maneuvering inches above the ground. It’s an awkward spin—known as the wolf turn—but the Olympic code of points awards it an insanely high difficulty score, so almost every top gymnast attempts to squeeze it into their floor and beam routines these days. I’m glad the move wasn’t in vogue when I was competing.

“How would you want to train her?” he asks.

“I’d want to see her perform a full routine first, just to get a better sense of where she’s at,” I say. “But already, I can say that she needs to focus on her performance. She’s talented, and her skills are impressive, but she could look a lot more polished. And her tumbling needs to get under control—she needs to stick those landings.”

Ryan nods in agreement, and that gives me the confidence to keep going.

“It all boils down to one problem, really,” I explain. “She needs to be sharper. More in control. Clean lines, solid landings, more intentional movement—that’s what’s missing.”

I pivot to face him, and I’m grateful to see a bemused expression on his face. “Maybe you’re right,” he says. He calls out across the gym, “Hallie, ready to run a routine? Let’s show Avery here what you can do.”

Ryan connects his phone to a stereo system and calls for the other gymnasts to clear the floor. They scatter, giving Hallie a wide berth as she makes her way to a spot a few feet from one corner of the floor. She freezes into a pose with her left leg extended and her right arm above her head. Then, a tinkling flute leads into a sweeping piano melody, and her body comes alive. The structure of her routine is familiar: a few brief dance steps, an impressive tumbling pass, followed by a series of hastily executed acrobatic movements and artistic elements designed to propel her into a new corner of the floor, where she launches into another tumbling pass. The structure repeats again, giving her exactly ninety seconds to pack a lifetime’s worth of training into a single performance.

There’s no denying it—it’s a good routine. But it’s not the kind of show that brings home Olympic medals. Here, too, her posture is rigid; her motions seem rote and uninspired. The elegant music she’s chosen doesn’t fit her style at all.

“How long has she been competing with this routine?” I ask Ryan.

“It’s changed a bit over the years, but basically, she’s been doing this for forever,” he says.

I nod. “She needs an upgrade,” I say.