Alexis made it to the gym just in time for Marty. A month had passed since her failure in the pacific rim and Marty hadn't really forgiven her for it.
"You're a smart girl Alexis," Marty frowned as he held her feet down as she did 180 degree sit-ups, "But you do stupid things. Stupid things, Alexis." Marty shook his head. Alexis had been hearing it for a month and she just wanted it to stop.
"Ok, Ok I get it! I made a mistake, and I'm an ignorant teenager who just wants to rebel against your system. But you need to hear me out already," She abruptly slapped Marty's wrists so he let go, fell backwards into the foam pit, dusted herself off and got out. Payson suddenly became quiet and turned around from the kiddy session she was leading by the bars.
"Ok, I'll listen. But once you say something stupid my attention toward you will just shut off." Alexis rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, which was still unsteady from the sit-ups.
"Up until the Pacific rim you guys have been holding me back because of all these injuries. It's been a crappy year, and the only attention I was getting was the weekly update on the NGO website about some new, made up issue I had." Alexis remembered the false eating disorder, the fake surgery she went through on her Achilles, the imaginary car crash she had been in and the forged drug tests that came back positive. "and I wanted to prove everyone wrong. Everyone thought that my career was over. Heck, I'm sure you thought it was, but I was so eager to prove them wrong, that I decided to do the triple twist." Marty opened his mouth to say something but Alexis just kept talking. "and if I had been in the right state of mind, I probably wouldn't have done it. If I had been training correctly the whole year, and competing on a regular basis, my body would have known—in midair—that I can't do another twist, and I would have improvised. It wasn't an issue of mastering the skill, since we both know that I can do the triple twist in my sleep, it was an issue of my feel for the sport." Alexis looked up. Marty had a slight grin on his face, but then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
"You're right, you lost it. But it's not hard to get it back. Just one week with the grade 9 girls and you'll have your usual killer instinct." She looked up, quite perplexed, but then jumped up and smiled with sheer happiness. "but it doesn't mean you miss out on your regular training. You'll come in the morning and stay in the afternoon for the grade 9's."
In most cases, Alexis would see joining the little grade 9, snobby pipsqueaks as a punishment, but she knew that joining them would really help her gain what she had lost in the passed year.
"Oh, and this doesn't make you exempt from finishing your sit ups. You still have 57 more."
"Hey Jessica, it's Riley." The group had totally forgotten about Jessica's dramatic ending to her athletic career, but the whole flight to Belgium Riley kept on getting flashbacks of Jessica rolling across the finish line, 45 minutes after the main pack of girls, tears streaming down her face, her shirt torn, and her knees bloody from crashing. She was covered in mucky rain-water, and spit ran down her chin. She came to a halt, sat under the team tent and continued to cry as Seth tried to console her. It had been a hard race for the team, but Jessica had obviously had enough. She shivered and shook her head violently as Seth stroked her back and tried to convince her that she was good, and that everyone has bad days, especially when you're a dainty American in her first race in the rough and tough world of European cycling. Riley clearly remembered when Jessica got up, and threw her bike onto the road, and remembered waking up the next morning with no roommate.
"Yeah, I could tell. What's up?" Actually, Riley really had nothing to say. She could tell from Jessica's facebook that the only cycling she was doing was to the supermarket and back, that she had gained 15 pounds, but that she had started dancing hip hop for fun and made a lot of friends, and also started working in a clothing store in a mall.
"You know what, I don't know. I just had this urge to call you." Riley sighed. "uhh, I guess what's up with you?"
"Fine, you know, getting used to my new life and all. You'd never imagine but this whole 'normal teenage life' thing is pretty exhausting." Jessica giggled, "I mean, you know, not as tiring as coming home from a training ride and having to get into the shower, but it's definitely different." Riley didn't say anything, she just sort of breathed into the phone.
"Listen Rile's, I know that I did it in a more-than-needed dramatic way, but deep in my heart I never was meant to be a cyclist." Jessica tried to console Riley, because it was the real reason she called. "You know, I never really enjoyed it. Never. I know that 90 percent of the time you don't enjoy it either, and neither does Mara or Nicole, but even during those 10% when you guys were having fun, I still wasn't." Jessica paused to see if there was a reaction—but there was none. "And the last thing I can tell you is that if I really wanted it, I would have pushed through after that raced. I wouldn't have broken down in tears and thrown my bike. I would have eaten my protein bar, gotten a good night's sleep and headed out to the race the next morning with a clear head. You know, with Seth as your daily coach I'm sure you go through a lot more hell then I did, but you pushed through because this is something you really want for yourself. I just never really saw it in Idaho because when you win all the time it doesn't make a difference if you want it or not, you're just winning." Riley never knew that Jessica could be so thoughtful and articulate. They were real words of wisdom, so touching that for a good minute she stopped in her tracks.
"thanks Jessica. I hope to see you some day, maybe you could come over for a weekend or something." With that, Riley understood Jessica and shed a virtual tear over a loss of great talent, but smiled at the same time because Jessica had freed herself of the burden she held for such a long time.