Interview With Chloe Lashbrooke

How old were you when you started gymnastics, and what originally drew you to the sport?

Mommy and Me at one year old! I did gymnastics recreationally on and off until I moved to Arizona in third grade. Many of the girls in my class were on the local gymnastics team, so I joined to make friends. I quickly fell in love with competitive gymnastics, and I ended up making some of my best friends through the sport—many of whom remained my closest friends for years to come. What started as a way to make friends became a huge part of my life.

What was your favorite meet, your favorite and least favorite events, and the hardest/easiest skill you ever trained?

This is so hard to choose! In JO, I loved postseason—the time when you finally get to show off all the hard work you’ve honed throughout the season. And of course, all of Amanda Borden’s legendary Arizona and California Grand meets were always special. In college, it’s even harder to choose a favorite meet. I would say the meets where everything comes together—the gymnastics, the team camaraderie, the fans, and the overall energy. Those are the meets you dream about. I’ve honestly never had a least favorite event! Bars has always been the most difficult event for me, but that also made it feel so rewarding when everything worked. My Tkachev was definitely the hardest skill for me to figure out, and one I could never completely master. It was always a special skill because it was so sky-high, but I struggled with consistency and catching it. Floor has always been my favorite. It has always felt natural and suited to me. I also attribute some of my success on floor to my early years cross-training in power tumbling and T&T. I’m not necessarily a twister, but I love my double backs. On those days when the floor is working just right, it is addicting.

Gymnastics is incredibly mental. What was your hardest struggle during your time as a gymnast? How did you deal with nerves, pressure, and getting in your head or temporarily "losing" a skill?

The combination of an Achilles injury, the pandemic, and a difficult coaching change—all back-to-back during my early college career—led to a great deal of grief over what could have been. It’s something I still deal with from time to time even today. What I was ultimately able to accomplish by the end of my college career at UCLA was impressive given the adversity I had gone through, but for a long time I was still resentful and unsatisfied because what I accomplished didn’t match what I knew I was capable of. I didn’t always handle the pressure I put on myself very well. What has always gotten me through difficult times in gymnastics, though, is my love of the sport. That’s why I showed up, and that’s why I kept going. Even when things were difficult, I still loved doing gymnastics. That love was something I could always come back to.

What was your biggest accomplishment in the sport, and did you ever want to do college gymnastics?

My biggest accomplishment in gymnastics was being asked to be a part of the legendary UCLA gymnastics team. The team had just won a national championship in 2018 when I made my commitment, so it was an incredibly exciting time to look toward the future. It was incredibly validating and an honor to join the legacy created by the teams before me and Miss Val. One moment that stands out to me was competing floor for the first time in Pauley Pavilion as a freshman. It was something I had never imagined I would accomplish, and it happened during one of my first meets alongside what would become the #1 floor lineup in the country that season. Being part of the famous UCLA floor squad was an incredible honor. The fans, the history, the support, the lights—it was incredible. I remember feeling like I was flying and grounded all at once. That is the feeling I associate with being completely locked in. It was just magic. Later, while I was recovering from my Achilles injury and struggling with my own expectations of what my career could have been, a therapist told me that I could “box up” that moment and tie it up with a bow. It was a place I could always visit whenever I wanted, because it happened—and it could never be taken away from me. That perspective has stayed with me. There were things about my career that I wished had been different, but that moment was real, and it was mine forever. Interestingly, I never really thought about college gymnastics until I was a Level 10, around 14 years old, when colleges naturally started coming up in conversation through gym visits and seeing college coaches at our competitions. Before that, I was very much in the moment during my developmental years and was simply enjoying myself. It wasn’t until colleges began inquiring about me that I realized competing in college was actually an option for me.

How did you cope when your time as a gymnast ended, and did you transition into coaching or are you currently still competing?

It’s been complex. If I could, I would do gymnastics forever. Retirement was my first real experience with grief, and it has involved a lot of healing, learning, and courage. I am now two years retired, and I’m doing a thousand times better than I was on day one. It’s hard to be in the top one percent of something for so long and then suddenly become a beginner again. I’ve slowly been figuring out how to bring color, passion, and vitality into my life through sources other than gymnastics. Early on, an acquaintance of my family who had retired from professional baseball told me that it took him five years to love the sport again after retiring. Somehow, hearing that gave me permission to step back and process my own grief without putting a timeline on it. I also started coaching parent-and-me gymnastics classes soon after retiring, which felt like a full-circle moment because that was where my own gymnastics journey began. Coaching helped me find joy in the sport again and rediscover my enthusiasm for sharing my passion for gymnastics with others. After a year of coaching, I focused on finishing my master’s degree in psychology at Pepperdine. I have recently graduated and am beginning my career as an associate therapist. My decision to become a therapist was inspired by many things: the mental resilience gymnastics requires, the lessons I learned through the adversities of my college career, and my genuine enjoyment of helping others. Although I am currently working in general therapy, I am interested in eventually working specifically with athletes.

Who was your gymnastics role model, and what advice would you give to someone starting the sport for the first time?

I’ve had many gymnastics role models throughout the years, but closely working alongside Kyla Ross as a freshman at UCLA was incredibly inspiring. She is not only an amazing gymnast, but also a natural-born leader and someone you can’t help but look up to in every area of her life. For someone starting gymnastics for the first time, my advice is simple: enjoy the interactions. Enjoy the difficulty. Enjoy the movement. This sport is special, along with all of the athletes who dedicate themselves to it. You are a unique and talented individual, and there is so much to discover about yourself through this sport. ❤️

What two goals you want to achieve in the sport of gymnastics?

Although my competitive gymnastics career has ended, I have two goals for my future work as a therapist with athletes. First, I want to help athletes prepare for retirement. Even though I knew my gymnastics career would eventually end, the transition still felt awkward and abrupt. Looking back, I have so many ideas about ways I could have prepared myself better. I want to help other athletes feel more prepared for that transition and understand that there is a life and identity beyond their sport. Second, I want to help athletes stay in love with their sport while they’re doing it. Athletes are human beings, too. Life inevitably happens, and what happens outside the gym affects what happens at practice and competition—and what happens in the gym can affect the rest of our lives. I want to help athletes make space for the whole person, so they can pursue excellence without losing their love for the sport along the way.