Balance (Off Balance Book 1) (11 page)

Pursing his lips, Alfred snuck a glance at me. “Honey, when it comes to your parents, I have no idea what they’ll do. I just want you to be prepared. Personally, I’d like it if you got used to your surroundings and the street names before I leave.”

I nodded, agreeing with him as we pulled into World Cup. My stomach was immediately in knots, anxious for what was to come. I was running on five minutes of sleep, Starbucks, and a prayer.

“You’re right...I’ll pay attention starting tomorrow.”

“Have a good training sesh,” Alfred said as I stepped out of the Escalade, causing me to pause and look over my shoulder.

“Did you just say sesh? Tell me you did not just say that.” Sesh was the slang everyone was using for session back home.

“What? Isn’t that what everyone is saying these days? I’m just trying to keep up with the times.”

“Alfred,” I said, shaking my head with a big smile. “See you later.”

Lugging my duffle bag over my shoulder, I walked into the gym, feeling slightly more comfortable than yesterday. Even though I’d been on time the day before, I was much earlier this morning and had time to put my belongings away, therefore preventing any awkward stares from my teammates...or reprimands from Coach Kova. After last night, I planned to prove I was worthy of being here. I’d shut up and do everything he said I needed to. I wanted this, and I refused to let a few unconstructive comments bring me down.

I undressed down to my leo and was in the middle of sipping water when Kova emerged at my side, scaring the shit out of me. He was like a fucking ninja, always appearing out of thin air without a sound.

I sputtered and water dripped down my chin. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and looked at him, capping the container.

Kova eyed me with anything but concern. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” I coughed.

“Good. Let us go into my office.”

I threw my hair into a messy bun, worried about what he wanted to talk about. He shut the door behind me and I took a seat, waiting for him to kill my hopes and dreams once again. It seemed to be his main goal every time I stepped foot into his office. My stomach twisted as our eyes locked, nervousness rippled through my veins as he stared at me for a long, hard moment. This couldn’t be good.

“I spoke with Madeline and we devised a new schedule for you. Until you can reach the level where we need you to be, you will be here six days a week with lunch and tutoring in between. Of those six days, two of the days will be dedicated to your favorite ballet class in the morning.” A sardonic half-grin tipped his lips. My belly fluttered at the way his eyes flickered when he said that. “Since you do not do tutoring every day, you will be here. Those will be about ten-hour days, coming in at just under fifty hours a week. You will get only one day to yourself for now to do whatever you need.”

He had to have been out of his ever loving mind. But knowing better than to argue, I curtly responded. “Okay.”

Looking down at his notes, his eyes scanned a few sentences before looking back at me. “You are going to also take some strengthening classes. We need you to improve your flexibility, and I think a couple of private sessions with me before practice will do it. So long as you continue with the drills.”

My last coach used to say my hips were tight, but I didn’t have a good understanding of what that meant. I guess I’d find out when the private session begun.

“There will be lots of conditioning in between, and every day before you start and when you finish, you will run two miles on the track outside.”

“There’s a track outside?” I hadn’t seen one.

“Yes, just a couple of blocks over there is a high school. You will use their track. Four laps equals one mile, so you will run eight in the morning and eight in the evening.”

I fucking hated running. “Whatever you say.”

“This schedule is extreme and not something we do for everyone. If you cannot handle it, or even think for a minute you are not capable of it, you should tell us. My time, as well as all the coaches in this gym, is precious. I do not want you wasting it.”

That pissed me off. Since I had no one to speak for me, I had to stand up for myself. “You haven’t even given me a chance. Not even twenty-four hours have passed. What makes you think I can’t do it? Yesterday I made mistakes, I know I did and I’ll own up to it, but I was nervous. Give me another chance.”

“There are no second chances in gymnastics. You should know this.”

“I’m well aware.”

“So no excuses.”

“I won’t make any.” He remained silent, so I continued. “World Cup produces champions, I came here to be coached by the best so I can be the best. I’m not leaving.”

“It is not about being the best, it is about how hard you work and how much you give without expecting anything in return. How much you train, how much you push when no one is looking. It is about how deep you dig within, knowing you did all you could possibly do and have no regrets at all. Even then, there is a chance it is still not enough.” Kova exhaled a heavy breath. “I cannot make you the best, only you can do that. Your body can endure just about anything—it is your mind you have to convince.”

Determined, I looked directly in his eyes. “I’ll prove I can handle it.”

Kova nodded slowly, a devious smile gracing his handsome face. I swallowed hard.

“What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. Right, Coach?”

“In your case, only time will tell.”

“L
et us get started.”

Following behind Kova, he led the way down the hall to one of the rooms in the back. He walked like he was on a mission. His shoulders were rigid and I found the way he marched when he walked intimidating. It was like he had a one track mind—an assignment needed to be tackled and dealt with. I guess I shouldn’t complain since he’d taken time out to help me personally, but he reminded me of a drill sergeant. He was all listen, look, and don’t talk.

The don’t talk part was my biggest weakness.

World Cup was much larger than I ever imagined when we first showed up. Aside from the remarkable gym and dance rooms, there was a muscle therapy room, showers—which I would never use—and a cafe equipped with a kitchen and tables scattered throughout. Thanks to my dad, the cafe was built as part of the agreement for me to train here.

Pushing the door open, Kova flipped on the lights. He didn’t waste time starting the private sessions. It’d been three weeks since we had our little chat and he implemented the new schedule.

The room held two exam style tables with navy blue, cushioned tops. There was a tall storage cabinet on the other side of the wall and various exercise equipment. Black folded mats, large yoga balls that were fun to bounce on, and elastic ropes used for restraint training hung from the walls. I knew he was concerned about my lack of flexibility—or so he said—but I was pretty sure he was delusional.

“Get undressed.”

My leo was already on, so I took off my shoes, pants, and shirt, and stuffed them into my bag. I always wore loose fitted comfy pants and a regular tee to practice. Easy on, easy off. I took out a pair of black spandex mini shorts and slipped those on and waited.

“So, what are we going to do?” I asked curiously.

“
We
, are not going to do anything—you are.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

I tracked Kova as he moved around the room. “You are going to stretch without stretching. A lot of athletes believe the more you do will help with flexibility. That is not always the case. Sometimes stretching aggressively backfires. It is short lived and can cause injuries.” He paused. “Every athlete is different, so what works for one may not work for the other. It is all trial and error, but I have found this helps with flexibility the best. ”

I nodded, listening to him. I’d never heard this, but then again, I’d never seen anyone bounce on kneecaps either.

“Your former coach was concerned about your range of motion.” Kova patted one of the tables, motioning me over. I closed the distance and jumped up. “I have been watching you the past few weeks, your shoulders and hips are tight. I have noticed you cannot go straight into a split, how it takes time for your hips to loosen until you hit the floor. Your leaps could use work and so could your angles. You are careful and it is obvious. Being cautious is not a bad thing, but it will hold you back. It is almost like your brain is subconsciously protecting you from over doing it, which will hinder your advancement in this sport.”

I eased into conversation. “Yes, it does take me a little time to loosen up, but I thought that was normal before a workout for anyone.”

He shook his head. “Lie back. Scoot forward so your legs are dangling off the table.” I did as he instructed. “Good. Now lift your knee and bring it to your chest. It should be flat to your chest without your other leg coming up.”

It wasn’t flat, and my knee did come up. Kova gave me a knowing look. “See?”

“Don’t you think it’s because I just walked in and haven’t stretched at all?”

“No, this is a simple thing that you should be able to do. Do it again.”

This time when I did it, Kova laid a hand high up on my thigh to hold my leg down. When I couldn’t bring my knee to my chest, he stepped in closer and helped widen my range of motion by pressing my knee to my chest, pushing on my shin, and holding down my other leg. His hands were large and capable of covering a vast amount of my skin. I grimaced inwardly so he wouldn’t hear me complain about the strain on my muscles.

“You feel it, yes?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but I also had a feeling he’d be able to tell I was lying. “I do,” I grunted when he pressed harder, “but I also think it’s because I haven’t warmed up yet.”

Kova let go and stepped back. “Now, scoot up, bend your knees, and put both feet at the end of the table. Place your hands flat by your sides and then lift your hips.”

I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I did as he asked.

“How does that feel?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, good?”

Kova’s eyes slowly grazed the length of my torso to my thighs and a shiver ran through me. “Can you not feel that your hips are not elevated all the way?” My brows cinched together and he stepped closer again. “Lift higher,” he ordered, placing his hand to my butt and holding it there. Warmth surged through me from his searing touch. I finally felt it and I couldn’t hide the tight pinch in my hips as he lifted me higher.

“I still think this is just because I haven’t done any warm ups this morning yet, Coach,” I grumbled. Apparently, I needed to remind him the sun was still rising, too.

Ignoring me, he said, “We are going to do various stretching techniques and breathing drills to help you. It is really all a mental thing, so we will train your brain to accept it.”

“Train my brain to accept it?” I paused, trying to find the right words because this was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “I’m sorry, Coach, but I don’t understand how basically manipulating myself is going to help with tight hips and shoulders.”

He stared at me for a long moment before he said, “It is like relearning a skill you already know how to do and learning it correctly. Like breaking a bad habit. But in order to break a bad habit, you have to think differently. In your mind, if you keep stretching and over stretching, it will help, yeah? It will give you the range of motion you need?”

“Well, yes.”

“So you are over doing it, and pushing and straining harder because you
think
it will make a difference when it clearly has not. Over stretching does not necessarily work. It is bad for your muscles. The stretching techniques I am about to teach you do in fact help. There will not be any strain on your body and they are safer for you. At your level, you should have a wide range of motion, but you do not. We can correct that. It is not uncommon, and this is not the first time I have seen this happen, but typically it comes with injury.”

This was, by far, the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard. Somehow lying to myself would fix my tightness. Oh, how about I just lie to myself and
think
I could do a triple front tuck on the floor when, in reality, I couldn’t. Training myself to think I could do it would only give me a broken neck and a wheel chair for the rest of my life, not the actual ability.