I was coming to understand that the post-Olympic dip was bigger and deeper than I realized.
“But you got help,” I said quietly.
“I did. But not before my little breakdown put my entire career in jeopardy. I lost a couple of brand deals, my sports agent quit.” Ben snorted. “Pretty shocking that more of it didn’t end up in the press. The world just got the topline story of ‘out-of-control athlete,’ which is a hell of a lot more palatable than ‘athlete undergoing a mental health crisis.’ It’s like a shameful secret that these superhuman machines have real feelings. We grieve, we bleed, but no one seems to give a shit about our feelings unless we win. Go figure.”
I fought through my jumble of selfish emotions to find a response, because I totally understood what he meant, but I didn’t want to make the conversation about me now that he was finally opening up.
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry,” I said.
Ben’s revelation had me rethinking everything I thought I understood about what happened, ordidn’thappen, after Switzerland. All I’d focused on was the way he was letting me down in my time of need without even pausing to think about what he was going through.
“Gross, right?” Ben said, like he was trying to play off the reveal.
“Ben, no. I wish I’d known.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You were dealing with your own demons. But now we’re older and wiser. Some of us aremucholder.”
“And we have the tools to process everything now? Yes?”
“I fucking hope so,” Ben replied. “I never want to feel like that again.”
He leaned closer to the windshield because the ice around the edges was encroaching despite the furious windshield wiping.
We drove in silence for the remainder of the trip, partly because I didn’t want to be a distraction but mainly because I was trying to process what Ben had revealed to me. The light was fading and the bleak horizon made it seem like the snow was coming down even harder.
“Are you holding up okay?” I asked as we reached the final leg of the drive.
“I will be once we get there, which at twenty miles per hour, might wind up being tomorrow.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Tomorrow. Ugh, I can’t believe we might get stuck here. I didnotplan for this.”
Anxiety swirled up in my chest. I’d tried to ignore the possibility of an extra day in Connecticut, because interruptions to my routine felt like nails in my coffin. The countdown to Italy was now measured in weeks, not months, and each training day was meticulously planned to the minute. I’d been okay with an overnight, but the thought of being stuck longer meant I probably wouldn’t be sleeping thanks to my training anxiety.
Which also stressed me out, because overnight recovery was critical.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath as I pictured all the ways my progress would now be derailed.
“What?”
“Two full days off...”
“No, hold on, recalculate that. You didn’t train today, but if we wind up getting stuck there’s plenty you can do tomorrow. You’ve got your sneakers, and there’s a conference room at the inn where you can work out. Sure, it’s off-ice, but it still counts.”
“Every day that I’m not on the ice is a setback that I clearly can’t afford.”
Ben adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “If you keep telling yourself that you’ll be correct. But if you reframe this little adventure as a chance to recharge and switch things up, then you’ll be fine. Consistency is important, but so is a little novelty. Muscle confusion can benefit you.”
The car skidded into the other lane but Ben righted it without missing a beat.
“I lost a full week of training time two months before Switzerland. Hip strain so painful that it made me want to cry. I was forced to focus on PT and mental training, which, if you listen to sports psychologists, is almost as important as the physical stuff.The absoluteworstthing to do in this scenario is freak out.” He paused to swerve around an abandoned car parked haphazardly on the side of the road. “You know I’m right.”
I chuckled.Therewas the Ben I knew.
We finally pulled up to the inn. Ben let out a long sigh and shook his hands. “That was really fucking stressful. I think every muscle is in knots.”
“Well, now you can go to your room and relax,” I answered as my brain conjured up images of Ben spread out in bed in his boxers.
Ben spread out in bedout ofhis boxers.
