He pulled back his arm, the ball ready to fly. Eagerly, I waited to see which direction it would go. He flung his arm forward and the ball sailed out of his grasp and whizzed through the air. I followed the ball with my eyes. Straight towards me! I couldn't let it hit me. This was elimination. If it did, I was out, done for. I ducked, and the ball whizzed right over my head, only inches away! Whew! Safe! For now... 

You walked along the road in the sweltering hot sun. Finally, you got to the beach! You wandered around for a bit, then decided on the mostly shaded picnic table. You sat down and heaved your backpack onto it. Excitedly, you pulled out your new library book. You settled down on the bench of the picnic table, your back against a tree, and began to read. 

I arranged the floppy yellow mat over the beam, trying to get it centered perfectly. It didn't really matter, of course, whether it was exactly the same length on each side, but the small, precise movements gave me extra time to try and control myself, my thoughts, my shaking body. With no more excuses for stalling I clambered onto the beam and stepped in front of the mat, careful not to let my heels touch it. I raised my arms over my head and blew out slowly, attempting to slow my pounding heart and settle my shaking hands. Come on. Use those nice, strong legs of yours. I tightened my legs, looked up at my hands and flattened them, right over left, above my head. That's how they'll look on the beam. Picture it. Picture. It. I can see them shaking. I throw myself backwards, hands hit the beam, legs snap down, feet lunge firmly. Yes!