Every four years, I become a gymnastics fan. It’s the only summer Olympic sport I reliably seek out, gawking from my couch as the athletes perform tricks that seem to defy the laws of physics and human capability. Since my own gymnastics career ended around the time I entered elementary school—in other words, around the time classes began to involve more than diving into a pit filled with foam blocks—I assumed this occasional experience was as close as I’d ever get to the sport in my adult life. [time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”] Until a recent Monday evening, when I joined about 20 other people for an all-levels adult gymnastics class at the Chelsea Piers Field House in Brooklyn, New York.