That made him look at me properly, one eyebrow raised. “Watch? Since when do you wake up early for anything triathlon-related?”
I smirked, trying to look casual. “I just… I don’t know. I kind of miss the energy of race day.” I paused, fiddling with my glass. “And maybe I miss riding my bike a little, too.”
Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, so that’s the real reason. You want to steal one of my athletes’ bikes and show them how it’s done?”
I laughed softly. “Not exactly. I just.... actually, do we still have mine somewhere in the garage?”
Dad’s mouth tugged into a small smile. “Of course it is. I’ve been taking care of it from time to time. I've been cleaning it, checking the tires, making sure the gears don’t seize up.”
I leaned back in my chair, pretending to be casual. “Sounds like you’re telling me to ride.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Don’t start. Watching is one thing, competing is another. And you’re still in recovery.”
“Right, right,” I said, drawing out the words. “But if I’m just, say…testingthe bike around the block…”
“Testing becomes training, and training becomes racing,” he warned.
Mom looked up from her coffee. “Oh, let her ride a little. It’s not like she’s signing up for the Ironman tomorrow.”
Dad shook his head. “You know how she is. One lap becomes ten. Next thing you know, she’s sprinting out of the water trying to chase down my teammates.”
I grinned. “What, scared I’ll beat them?”
He laughed. “Scared you’ll beat yourself up before you’re ready.”
Mom glanced between us with a knowing smile. “Well, maybe if her training goes well, you could let her test her old bike. Just for fun.”
I pointed at her. “Yes. That. Listen to Mom.”
Dad sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll see. And that’s not a yes, it’s a maybe. I still have to talk to Coach Kit about that. You’re getting ready for your tennis season.”
I gave them both a small smile and pushed off from the counter. “Alright, I’d better get ready before I lose track of time.”
Upstairs, I showered quickly, letting the warm water shake off the last of the grogginess. I went downstairs, and we ate together quietly, the soft hum of the morning settling around us.
As I finished the last bite, I stood and grabbed my keys.
Tossing my bag into the passenger seat of my car, slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the driveway.
The streets were still quiet as I drove toward the academy, the kind of soft morning light that made everything look half-awake. By the time we pulled in, I could already see Coach Kit and the rest of the team gathered by Court 3, a cart of fresh balls by his side. He had his arms crossed, a clipboard in one hand, and glasses on. The posture said everything.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Bobby called out, already tossing cones onto the court.
“You’re lucky it’s your first day back,” Coach Kit said, but there was a small smirk tugging at the edge of hismouth. “Otherwise, I’d make you run a lap for every minute that you’re late.”
I raised a hand in mock surrender. “Traffic teamed up on me.”
“Alright,” Coach Kit clapped his hands. “Warm-up, mobility drills, and then we’ll walk through today’s plan. Light footwork, short court rally, then we’ll assess where we’re at.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath. Back to work. Back to the grind.
Training that morning was focused and efficient. We kept it light: rhythm drills, mobility work, and short court rallies to rebuild my timing. No heavy hitting yet, just movement and feel. By noon, we wrapped up, everyone drenched and hungry, but satisfied.
I grabbed my bag and headed across the academy grounds, toward the admin building where Mom usually set up during busy weeks. Sure enough, she was out back near the garden courtyard, seated at a table with her iced coffee, a tablet in front of her, and a few folders spread around. Two junior staffers were mid-discussion beside her.
She looked up as I approached. “You’re done early,” she said, flipping through one of the documents spread across the table.
“Yeah, Coach Kit said we're done for the day,” I replied, dropping my bag by the bench and leaning over to peek at her notes. “Everything still running smoothly?”
