Sleeping in the car, homework done in advance and mum's lunchbox: life in a champion's family

The series "A conversation with a champion's mother", part 2 of 6. ← Previous part

The question parents thinking about serious training ask most often is: how do you fit it all in? School, training, the drive, work — and still let a child be a child. We asked Anna, Liza Sahalai's mother, what an ordinary week looks like for them. Spoiler: no illusions, but no horror story either.

An ordinary week before a championship

In the season of preparation for the world final, Liza trained every day. Monday — two hours of dance and an hour and a half of gymnastics. Tuesday — an hour of individual choreography and another three to three and a half hours of gymnastics. Wednesday — two hours of dance. Thursday — an hour on her solo, an hour on the trio and gymnastics again. Friday — acrobatics and two hours of dance. Right before a competition there were sometimes two sessions a day.

Yes, Liza does rhythmic gymnastics alongside all this — and at a serious level too. "The strength she gets from gymnastics gives her something in dance that not all dancers have. And the musicality from dance means she doesn't look like everyone else on the mat," Anna explains. "To the question 'maybe it's time to choose one?' she answers flatly: no, I'm not going to choose."

The lunchbox, the car, and sleep between sessions

Liza started school before she was six. That first school year looked like this: school until lunchtime, lunch at home and a compulsory nap, then dance. On days when gymnastics followed dance, there was "mum's lunchbox": "We ate in the car, because otherwise the timing simply didn't work. If there was a bigger gap, she'd have another sleep in the car," Anna says.

The family learned to do homework in advance: "If we already know the lesson timetable at the weekend, we do Monday and Tuesday ahead of time, and on those days we chip away at the next ones. When a day falls apart completely, the previous days cover us."

The busiest months are October–November and March–April: the peak of championships and festivals in dance and gymnastics at the same time. "I just cross my fingers and pray they're not on the same day at the same hour," Anna laughs.

"A hamster on a wheel" — and what it gives a child

Anna does not dress it up: "It was hard. You're like a hamster on a wheel: always running somewhere, always late. I think people at reception got used to seeing me like that — forever rushing off somewhere." Both parents work — so sometimes dad simply drops Liza off outside the centre and she takes it from there: changes, gets her things together, goes into class.

And that, Anna says, is where the non-obvious bonus of a punishing schedule hides: "All of this is about independence. It isn't only about dance or sport, it's about growing as a person. She already knows what a goal is and that goals don't fall from the sky — that sometimes you need a schedule like this to get what you want."

Is it worth it

A question Anna has probably heard a hundred times — and asked herself. After Dublin the answer is simple: "I suppose it is." But it matters that what she names as the value is not the medals: composure, responsibility, the ability to plan, independence — the things that will stay with her child under any scenario.

Next in the series: where a seven-year-old's inner backbone comes from — and why her parents teach her to say "I can't". Read part 3 →

Quotes lightly edited for readability. The start of the story is in part one of the series; the full journey is in "Liza's road".