“But it wasn’t wrong.” I assure her. “Listen, I’d love to get into it but I told Miguel I’d be back in a minute and it has been like ten.”
She laughs. “Have a good ride.”
“Thanks. Girl date tonight after deliveries?”
“For sure.”
I crush her in a quick hug and head down.
“That was like eight minutes.” Miguel says as I climb into the front of his truck.
I shrug. “Dee needed a talking with.”
“What about?” He asks as he drives off from the curb.
“Baseball salaries.”
Miguel tries his best to study me but he has to keep his eyes on the road. I’m just going to let that one hang there.
“So,” I start. “Another VO2workout today?”
“Not quite as intense but yes, we’re going to work on some moderate to hard pacing and then hard pacing before doing five full out sprints followed by easy one minute recovery.”
“What’s the total distance?”
“I’m not sure, we’re going to clock this one by time.”
“But don’t I need to get myself up to the full race distance at pace?”
“No, you’ve done it before, what will help you most now is pushing your limits and learning what it feels like when there’s nothing left in the tank. You’re learning your metabolic limits. And how to avoid going over the line and crashing out.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Well, I’ve never done that before. I’ve just gone full out trying to hit each distance as fast as I can.”
“You crushed your first full TP distance.”
“When I finished in my socks?”
“Yeah, despite that obvious disadvantage you hit the top ten.”
“But top ten isn’t going to get me a pro card.”
“It might get you a sponsor though.” Miguel says with a hopeful shrug.
I temper my hope because I’m not as confident it’ll help me as he is. A sponsor before getting the pro card is almost unheard of. You have to be like an influencer with a bajillion followers to get their attention.
I tried, before my screen became a fractured glass piece of abstract art, but I could never remember to film myself workingout and I also couldn’t understand why someone would listen to my opinion. I didn’t know what I was doing. I still don’t.
If I didn’t have Miguel guiding me I know I’d be struggling even more than I already am.
Quiet falls over us as we continue to drive south along the lake to our starting point by Grant Park. The sun reflects off the water with blinding rays but being along the shore, seeing the city grow larger in the windshield, catching Chicagoans as they enjoy the lakefront, has me thinking.
I might not have it figured out. I might not be where I need to be.
Maybe I need to tell myself I’m lucky to be exactly where I am.
