She had a little more left.

Now Simone Biles leaves these Summer Olympics with a final medal, an individual bronze on the balance beam—adding it to her silver in the team event, and, much more importantly, an indelible moment in the overdue discussion of mental health. 

It’ll prove to be an essential part of Biles’s legacy. We didn’t get the expected parade of golds, but something better was revealed: the whole Simone Biles. 

Until her decision to enter Tuesday’s beam competition, Biles looked to be out the door in Tokyo. After her stunning withdrawal during last week’s team competition, citing concerns about her state of mind, there had been a steady, downbeat drip of cancellations. Biles opted out of events she’d dominated. She was out of the all-around. Then the vault. Then the floor exercise.

No one would have been shocked if Biles had said “no thanks” to the beam, too.

It was like watching a superhero turn in a cape, in pieces.

U.S. star gymnast Simone Biles spoke to reporters after winning a bronze at the Tokyo Olympics for her performance on the balance beam Tuesday. The event marked her return after she withdrew from other finals, citing the need to focus on her mental health. Photo: Ashley Landis/Associated Press

Or maybe all that superhero stuff was why we’d gotten into this mess in the first place. No athlete in these Games had been built up quite like the 24-year-old from Texas. In the years and months leading up to these delayed Games in Tokyo, all that media hype and expectation burdened into a heavy weight on her shoulders. 

Biles was hailed as the greatest of all time, and she embraced the title; She wore a tiny sequined goat on her gym attire. But the designation turned into an exhausting responsibility.

So much more was going on with Simone Biles. She’d been letting people know, privately and in public, that she had battled with episodes of depression, to the point she started lingering in bed all day because it was “the closest thing to death.” 

She did not disguise her rage at organizations like USA Gymnastics and the U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Committee, which she believed failed to protect her and hundreds of athletes from a serial sexual abuser. 

All of this trauma followed her into another Olympic cycle. Tokyo was supposed to further underline her historic greatness, but it didn’t seem like a showcase Biles coveted. She sounded ready to get it over with. 

It proved too much. As the Games began, Biles became stuck in her own head, and it affected her ability to control those magnificent aerials and twists she used to handle with ease. It got compared to the “yips” in golf or baseball—“the twisties,” gymnasts called it, but unlike the yips, it came with a clear risk of bodily danger. 

The withdrawals began, starting with the bombshell one on the final night of the team event. Though there was a predictable howl from those who wanted Biles to gut her way through it, there was also a wave of appreciation for her courage to say she wasn’t mentally quite there, and needed to step away, in a critical moment, for her personal well-being. 

Mental health is a subject a few brave athletes have talked about in the past, the swimming legend Michael Phelps among them, but now it was happening to one of the best Olympians ever on the biggest possible stage, and she was addressing it in real time, head-on, in public. 

It would have been perfectly understandable if Biles shut it down and left Japan, but she didn’t. She remained an energetic presence at competitions. Her self-removal cleared a path for new winners, like Sunisa Lee, who triumphed in the all-around, and Jade Carey, who won gold on the floor, and there was Biles, celebrating as if it had happened to her, the icon now turned superfan.   

Behind the scenes, she kept at it. She practiced. She tweaked her routines, modifying some of her riskiest aerials and hoping it’d be enough to get back to competing. She updated her progress—and challenges—on social media. 

Opting into the balance beam competition offered a nice dramatic touch. Not only was it Biles’s last chance at a medal, it was a gold that eluded her in Rio five summers prior. 

Simone Biles modified her dismount, avoided any trouble, and wound up in third.

Simone Biles modified her dismount, avoided any trouble, and wound up in third.

Photo: Kyodonews/Zuma Press

Honestly it was more than enough to see her out there. She was not the favorite—that was Guan Chenchen, the 16-year-old phenom from China—but just getting back on that beam felt like a powerful statement. 

Here was the Simone Biles we knew. 

Her performance shined, as it almost always does, but it was not flawless. Biles modified her dismount, avoided any trouble, and wound up in third position behind Guan and another Chinese gymnast, Tang Xijing. 

Better yet, she seemed calm. Maybe not 100% confident, but clearly improved. Biles looked like someone who knows that her legacy in her sport is secure. Her bronze, which matched her beam bronze in Rio, ties her with Shannon Miller for most medals by a women’s gymnast in Olympic history. 

Her impact is far broader now. In her vulnerability, Biles has elevated a conversation, long avoided, about treating mental health like we treat physical health. In her candor, she’s offered courage to struggling people without her power or platform.  

The superhero gave way to the human being. 

That’s what will be remembered. Simone Biles came to Tokyo and had an Olympics unlike anyone expected. On her way out, she stuck the landing. 

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Write to Jason Gay at Jason.Gay@wsj.com