"It was incredible. And it was amazing to watch." He reassures me.
"Yeah girl, super inspiring." Dee adds.
"C’mon let’s get your things and get back to the room." Miguel says and Dee nods.
I follow them as we work our way back to the T1 area first and Miguel puts my goggles and swim cap into my canvas bag. Then at T2 he hands Dee the bag where she tosses my shoes and helmet inside and he wheels my bike down the aisle.
On our way to the parking lot, a reporter stopped me to ask a few questions. I barely remember what I said.
I’m crashing. Maybe I pushed myself too hard. I’m exhausted and can barely stand. My stomach is empty, and a little sour from just gels throughout the day. I don’t feel as sick as I did in Chattanooga. Already, my body has started to adjust to this level of effort.
"C’mon Laney, let’s get you back to the room." Miguel says, looping an arm around my waist and handing me an electrolyte drink.
"I’ll run out and grab dinner." Dee says to us. I nod. "I’ll meet you at your room in like an hour?"
"That works." Miguel says and he helps load me into the truck then he and Dee put everything in the back.
"Hey, you did amazing." Dee says through the open window.
"Thanks Dee, I’m really happy you’re here." I say without much excitement in my voice. "I’m just so tired."
"Really? Why?" Dee cracks a smile wide and I exhale the hint of a laugh for her. "See you in an hour."
"Kay."
"Ready?" Miguel asks as he starts the truck.
"To collapse? Yeah. So ready."
"You’re too hot." Miguel says from the side of the bed. I know he’s talking about my core body temperature that is too elevated following the race, the opposite of our first training session together.
But I’m still me, so I choose to interpret his comment in my own way.
"That sounds like a you problem." I mumble into the comforter.
"Laney, I promise this will feel good."
"But I have to stand. I don’t want to stand." I whine as I lay prone on the end of the bed. When I stumbled into the room, I face planted and I’ve stayed there since. Miguel, fondly known as my tormentor, wants me to take a cold shower. I understand the merits of the idea. It’ll help reduce inflammation and swelling, it can help numb the pain I am feeling from head to toe. I even understand the hygienic value.
But I physically can’t get my legs to move.
"Alright, here we go." Miguel grunts as he rolls me over and scoops me up into a bridal carry. "The water is already going."
"All I can do is stand there." I warn.
"That’s just fine Princess, I’ll take care of you."
Miguel sets me down on the counter in the bathroom and pulls my shirt and sports bra from my body. I slump a little without the restrictive fabric against the girls. He guides me gently to my feet and then rolls my shorts down my legs and lifts each ankle in turn to take them off.
He is using the most gentle, tender, loving touches, and it’s only making my muscles weaker.
"C’mon." He says as he takes my hand and guides me to the shower. I step in and the cold water hits my chest.
"Fuck, why do I like this?" I say as I lean into the water pressure.
I glance over my shoulder and catch Miguel taking off his clothes and stepping in behind me. His hands find my shoulders and he spins me so the water hits my back.
I become putty in his hands as his fingers massage the shampoo into my scalp. He moves my head to the right and the left to rinse the lather and I blink open my eyes to watch him concentrate on his task.
