But there was more to it than that.Libby held her camera steady.“Physiology is one thing,” she said, “but the mental and psychological capacity for self-discipline and perseverance is completely another.You might have been born with optimum body parts for running, but when did you decide to make the most of them?How old were you when you committed to being the best?”
“Thirteen.”
Aw, man.She stopped recording and lowered her camera, recalling what had happened to him at that age.“I’m sorry.You don’t have to speak about your father’s death.Not if you don’t want to.”
So much for easing him into these interviews with something fun.Something that he’d delight in talking about.That’s why she’d asked him about his sport.
“It’s okay.”Dan straightened his shoulders.“I’m happy to talk about Dad.Iwantto talk about him.”
“If you’re sure…”
“The Real Daniel Jones, remember?That’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”
“Secretly, I’m kind of making it up as we go along.I won’t know how these interviews will shape up until we shoot all our footage.But don’t tell anyone.I’m meant to be a professional.”
Dan gave her a side smile.She liked it when he found her amusing.“Turn your camera on again, Libby.I’m ready.”
She pressed Record.
“So, you were thirteen…”
“Yeah, I was thirteen.I’d just lost my dad, and… I think it was grief that shaped me.It made me hungry for success.Not fame.Not money.Just success.”
“Having fame and money isn’t your definition of success?”
“No.”He looked at her.“Is it yours?”
Libby shook her head.“My definition of success changes all the time.When I had a newborn, success was making it through the day without being spewed on.”
Dan chuckled.“My idea of success has changed too.When I was a teenager whose life had been turned upside down, success meant being the absolute best that I could be.Six a.m., six days a week, rain or shine, I was either at the track or in the gym.I can’t imagine what it was like for my mother to watch how hard I drove myself.”On a joyless laugh, he shook his head.“Man, when I say I was hungry for success.I.Was.Hungry.”He blew out his cheeks.“Mum said I took it to a whole different level.But she was just grateful I was addicted to the track and not something else.”
“You must’ve found a balance at some point.”
“Yeah, I did.My coaches taught me the importance of rest days and the dangers of burnout.They said I didn’t have to live at the pace of a lightning strike all the time.”
“A lightning strike?Is that where you got the idea for your victory dance?”
“Sort of.”Dan sniggered.“But that was mainly just some stupid thing I did once that everyone suddenly loved.But I’ll tell you a secret… My sisters and I used to do that move when we were kids.If we called each other names, we’d go, ‘Boom!’as if we’d been struck by lightning, but then we’d just walk away, like, ‘Whatever, you moron.No skin off my back.’It was so irritating.”
“I love that.”
“It’s stupid kids’ stuff,” Dan said, but then a wisp of nostalgia for those bygone days flashed in his eyes.
“I’m sure you can still do a lightning strike.”She nudged his leg.“That funky move is great.”The way he’d make his body move in a shock wave, from his toes to his head, and thenbam!His fist shooting up like that, grabbing his win.“Will you do it for us, on camera?”
“No.”Nostalgia turned to sadness.“I don’t think so.”
She didn’t insist.That move—or him not doing it again in victory—was obviously a pain point.
“So, you were hungry,” Libby said, getting back on topic.“Tell me what a man with that kind of hunger does when it’s been sated?”Oops, she’d just made him sound like some alpha lion, and thinking of Dan sated made her skip down that forbidden path again.“I mean—”
“It’s never sated,” he said firmly.
An insatiable appetite?Libby swallowed.But they were talking about his sport.Not… Not things she shouldn’t be thinking about.“What about that box of gold medals?”
“It’s never enough.That’s the thing.You always want more.”
“That sounds like it could become a problem.”
