September 30th, 8:00 AM-
Crunches. 20 reps.
Reverse crunches. 20 reps.
Double crunches. 20 reps.
Bicycle crunches. 20 reps.
Water.
Plank. 60 seconds.
Push ups. 30 reps.
Water.
Stretch.
Rolling her neck with a satisfying crack as her vertebrae readjusted, Ainsley opened the door to her bedroom and shuffled across the cheap carpet towards the kitchen wearing a sweaty old tee she had gotten for free with some random company name strewn across the front. The shirt was a little bit too small for the young woman who stood a solid six feet tall, but hey, it was free. Reaching the kitchen she found her roommate Chauncey already awake, dressed for the day, and making omelets. Without a word of greeting to the man she opened up the fridge, rifling around for the orange juice while Chauncey looked over at her with a smirk.
"You sounded like you were struggling a bit in there. Why don't you stop fooling around on your girly little team and just join the football team already! Learn how to play a real sport," he teased, earning him a nasty glare from the freckled girl's dark eyes. "I mean it's not like anyone would know you're not one of the guys!" This comment received a sharp inhale in protest as Ainsley gripped the carton of juice more tightly, ready to douse him with citrus.
"I couldn't, because I don't care how much padding you all need I'd still have to hold back from breaking everyone in a scrimmage," she retorted, punching him square in the shoulder and taking the pan from his hand to dump the omelet onto her plate.
He chuckled quickly to himself, rubbing a hand across his stubbly chin. "Have I struck a nerve? I didn't mean to pull on your pigtails there, Revvie."
She shot him another look of utter malice. "I have never worn pigtails in my life," she said flatly as she bumped the silverware drawer shut with her hip, striding off and taking her food back into her bedroom to get ready. In one smooth motion she pulled the slightly too small t-shirt over her head and tossed it into the hamper, sitting down with her plate at her desk and shoveling the food into her mouth quickly chased by a gulp of orange juice.
Crossing to her closet, Ainsley caught sight of her reflection in the full length mirror that hung in the corner of her room, giving pause to look over what she saw. Her long, pale blonde hair had begun to poke out from the braid she had put it in before working out, and a few pieces stuck to her forehead with sweat. Standing in only a sports bra and gym shorts let her examine her long, tan arms, tight stomach, and toned legs. Her eyes lingered a moment longer on her chest, and with her arms she pressed her breasts together experimentally. The cleavage that formed brought a satisfactory smile to her lips. Looking just like one of the guys? I think not.
Reemerging in sweatpants and a much more suitable tee, Ainsley found her roommate lying on the couch with an omelet of his own, watching cartoons. With a roll of her eyes she downed the rest of her orange juice and placed her dishes in the sink to be washed later.
"So you going to health and performance today or what?" she questioned, as the man didn't look as though he intended to get up. The burly man let out a high pitched whine and he looked up at Ainsley with his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, his lower lip jutting out and wibbling comically.
"I don't know Revvie, I just woke up feeling so nauseous. What if I threw up, and in health no less! Everyone would make fun of me. Won't you go for me and let me see your notes tonight once you're home?" he requested, dropping the puppy dog act and instead smiling and trying his darndest to be charming. Ainsley could only roll her eyes once more.
"You are so full of shit," she scolded, hitting him in the face with a throw pillow before grabbing her things. "You're gonna do my dishes then, since you're gonna be home all day."
"Wait wha-"
She shut the door with a loud bang before he had enough time to finish.
September 30th, 9:15 AM-
At least with Chauncey playing hookie leaving Ainsley to fly solo today, she would actually be able to pay attention and take something that resembled notes. She wasn't positive that boy could focus on anything for more than five minutes unless it had to do with sports, beer, or women. He was a good guy, if a little simple-minded.
Not that Ainsley ever considered herself much of a scholar either. Regardless of how interested she may have been in the material, sitting in a small uncomfortable chair with an somehow even smaller impractical desk, she would inevitably grow restless. That restlessness would quickly translate itself to rhythmic tapping of her fingers on her desk, or the vigorous bouncing of her legs, both of which drew irritated stares her way. Someone probably would have said something about it, were it not for her rather intimidating presence. They didn't bother her much, as both the stares and the lecture would inevitably fade into background noise as her engagement waned auto pilot kicked in, leaving her mind free to drift aimlessly.
September 30th, 12:30 PM-
Ainsley was a hungry girl, so lunch time often proved to be one of the highlights of the day, though it frequently doubled as homework time. The dining hall at Northwright University left a little to be desired, but Ainsley had never been a picky eater, and the buffet style was perfect for a ravenous athlete such as herself. As soon as she walked in she scooped up a tray and two plates, ready to fill them with starches, meats, and perhaps a little sprinkling of greenery for good measure.
The tow-headed girl made a beeline for her usual spot, taking a seat in the comfy padded bench and setting down her tray of goodies. The table stood tucked in a back corner, a little ways away from all the bustle of the good lines and sheltered from potential unwanted conversation. Ainsley didn't consider herself particularly antisocial, but she certainly liked to know when to be expecting conversation, and enjoyed a moment of solitude when she wasn't. Something about running into teammates outside of practice made her tense. In addition to having little time to spare in the evenings, wanting to appear busy acted as another prime reason that she took out her papers and textbooks, laying them out before her during the lunch break.
With her fingers drumming against the table at a mile a minute, Ainsley attempted to figure out something that resembled an argument for her paper, though the task felt futile. She tensed as her dark eyes caught sight of someone approaching the table in her peripherals. Mustering up all the pep she had for the day, she looked up from her work and managed a tiny smile at the newcomer.
"Hey there, Ainsley!" the boy quipped, "Mind if I sit here?" She scarcely had time to respond when he set his tray down on the table with a clumsy clatter.
"Hey, Phil."
On occasion, this physiology classmate of hers joined her solitary table, effectively spiking the average cheerfulness of the area. Phillip Woodward was a bit of a sorry looking fellow, spindly, pasty, and fragile looking with unruly red curls and posture so poor it seemed as though he made the climb down from his bell tower every morning to attend class. The posture did nothing for his short stature either, though admittedly most seemed dwarfed next to Ainsley who towered over a good portion of the student body. The things Phil had going for him were his boundless cheerfulness, sunny and outgoing demeanor, no sense of shame or self-consciousness, and some incredible academic prowess.
"Working on that physiology paper?" he inquired, looking particularly docile as he delicately handled his burrito, cutting it into small, manageable pieces as Ainsley gawked in dismay.
"Y-yeah," she managed in reply once she had gotten over the atrocity of cutting a burrito, downing her glass of milk quickly. "I suppose yours is already finished?"
He shook his head vigorously, sending his curls bouncing to and fro. "Oh my goodness, no!" He took a pause to look down at his plate, finally satisfied with the small pieces of what was once a respectable burrito and beginning to pop them into his mouth one by one. "I just have a rough outline done," he assured her, "Maybe we can work on it later tonight?" he continued hopefully. Ainsley faltered, looking down in mild embarrassment at her mindless scribbles for a second before looking back up at her peer with a hesitant and slightly pained smile.
"Sure, I mean I don't see why not. I live in the university apartments, I can come back from the gym a little early tonight, maybe at around 6? We can grab takeout or something and study," she decided, shuffling her papers into a slightly neater pile and shoving them back into her bag.
"That sounds great! I can't wait," he chirped earnestly. "I've been thinking about capitalizing on the gym as well! Might as well use it if my tuition pays for it, right?" he laughed, popping in another bite. He'd definitely need a spotter if he planned on lifting. Maybe that could be her way of repaying him for helping her out with school work. The mental image of the boy lifting weights brought a genuine smile to Ainsley's lips.
"That'd be quite a sight."
September 30th, 1:30 PM-
Phillip took his sweet time eating his tiny pieces of burrito, so Ainsley was forced to give him an early goodbye and head out for the buses while he continued to work on making at least a dent in the contents of his plate. Work beckoned, and she reluctantly answered the call. The job didn't even come close to her actual calling, even at a sporting goods store her patience wore thin quickly with customers. Whether they didn't know what they wanted, or they wanted something that didn't exist, either way it typically ended up with Ainsley referring them to a coworker and going to the back to fume and decompress for a little while. Customer service was not her forte.
Lucy Garreau however, had the patience of a saint. One of Ainsley's teammates and captain of the squad, Lucy had a motherly desire to help people and vast reservoirs of patience for any lost soul who mistook golfing gloves for weight lifting gloves. Only in her absence would their manager ever dare to put Ainsley out on the floor to help customers. Ordinarily she spent her days restocking shelves and helping people, customers or otherwise, carry any heavy equipment.
Much to her dismay upon arriving at work, Ainsley discovered that Lucy was leaving an hour early for a doctors appointment, leaving her to hold down the fort. At midday on a weekday the store would remain fairly barren, but just as she began to get her hopes up that no one would come in, a soft tinkling of a bell signaled the opening of the front door. A girl with her long dark hair slicked back into a tight ponytail entered the store, smiling cheerfully as she caught Ainsley's eye before making her way through the shelves.
As discretely as she could, Ainsley sized up the girl who flitted between the racks. Sturdy legs and spandex shorts, that seemed to indicate a volleyball player. Then again, her arms and shoulders were pretty defined, maybe a softball player? Neither appeared correct as the girl finally arrived at the swimming section of the store, and began rifling through he training suits. Ainsley prayed the girl already knew what she wanted, but the amount of time she loitered at the rack suggested otherwise. Taking a deep, steading, calming breath, the blonde meandered through the racks until she reached the indecisive customer.
"Can I help you find anything?" she inquired with scripted cheeriness. The swimmer looked up from the pink patterned suit in her hands slightly surprised, but her eyes seemed kind as they squinted with the smile pulling across her thin lips.
"Oh, no. I'm good thanks…Just trying to decide on a new training suit is all. Mine's getting a little old," she responded, a strange look of sadness flickering across her face as she let go of the one in her hands and grabbed a black one next to it. "Any suggestions?"
Ainsley frowned, averting her eyes. She hated that question. It didn't feel right to make recommendations on equipment and sportswear she'd never used herself. Being that she had only ever played rugby, there was little of use she could say about the variety of swimsuits they carried.
"Well…I think these over here are pretty popular," she offered hesitantly, gesturing towards the black suits, "but black is kind of plain. I think the colored ones are good if you wanted to stand out."
An uncomfortably long pause followed as the customer looked at the two suits without making a move for either. "Does the pink look good on me?" she asked, pulling the pink patterned suit back off the rack and holding it up to her tan skin. This question made Ainsley cough uncomfortably, flustered even further, and rather than imagining the customer in a swimsuit she simply pointed behind her.
"There's a mirror over there, feel free to go take a look. I'll be at the register when you're ready," she replied quickly, turning on her heel and walking briskly over to the counter. If there was one thing Ainsley was good at, it was rugby. But if there was a second thing, it was avoiding conversations.
September 30th, 4:30 PM-
Thankfully, the swimmer didn't ask any more questions, eventually striding up to the register with the pink suit in hand. After she left no other customers came through the door that needed Ainsley's attention, much to her relief. The moment her shift ended she was out the door and headed down the street for the town recreation center for that day's workout. Monroe was a fairly small town, and the little university shared its gym facilities with the populace at large so no one had to drive the next town over for a public pool or workout space. The arrangement seemed to work out well for the general public, though it looked to Ainsley that it hurt the university students. She supposed that was what she got for going to such a tiny school in a town no one had ever heard of, but a full ride athletic scholarship to a place that fit her father's strict criterion was hard to pass up.
That wasn't to say the facilities were bad. On the contrary, with funding from both the town and the school, the premises were actually quite nice, and frequently updated with newer, better equipment. There were pools, basketball courts, volleyball courts, wall ball courts, an indoor turf field, a small outdoor football stadium, and weights for just about anything you could want. Not only that, but the top floor was home to a number of rooms where various classes were taught, anything from dance to pottery.
Not that Ainsley ever bothered with those. She wasn't one for taking any more classes than she had to. Something about being required to attend and having someone else tell her what to do seemed to suck the fun right out of things. Using the nice equipment was the only reason she went to the actual gym, rather than the tiny joke of a gym in her apartment complex. She couldn't even remember the last time she went swimming, and Ainsley was pretty sure that her greatest artistic achievements were the endless loops and swirls that she doodled in notebooks to help pass the time during lecture.
That was why, just as with any other day, she strode past all the classrooms without a second glance and trotted down the stairs to the weight room. It didn't take long for sweat to begin to bead on her forehead, and drip down the back of her neck. She tended to push herself a little further than she probably should have by herself, but that was the only way she saw to get stronger, faster. Besides, she didn't see going to the gym as a social event.
Standing to rerack the dumbbells she had been using, an audible clang sounded as each was placed back in its proper spot. For some odd reason however, the clanging of metal on metal didn't stop once she pulled her hands away. At first, she didn't think much of it and looked around the sweat stenched room to find a source of the sound. Upon finding nothing, and the sound persisting a few good moments longer than it should have, she became concerned.
The noise became progressively louder, and joining in the rattling noise came a deep grumbling from beneath them. The other occupants of the weight room were beginning to panic, quick, nervous murmurs spreading through the room like wildfire as a few patrons ran from the room while others simply backed up against the walls.
A groan signaled the tipping of the weight rack before her, and instinctively Ainsley reached out to catch it along with a man who stood beside her. Though saving herself from the falling rack, the sudden change in momentum caused a few of the dumbbells to fall from their place, a thirty pound weight landing squarely on top of Ainsley's right foot.
Instantly her eyes began to water as she and the man beside her pushed the rack back upright, and she rolled the weight off her throbbing foot. The stranger beside her wrapped her arm over his shoulders for support, hurriedly helping her along to the wall like the others. Dropping to the floor as the ground became increasingly unsteady, Ainsley cursed like a sailor and clutched her knee to her chest. As tightly as she could she grit her teeth and lifted her foot from the floor, attempting to ease off her sneaker. The task proved fruitless, and the sight of blood soaking through her white shoe made her feel inexplicably queasy.
She couldn't managed to say a word to any of the concerned onlookers.
Her vision clouded.
Her head spun.
She slumped back against the wall.