Balance (Off Balance 1)

I was glad he didn’t prod. “He’s...interesting. And different than any other coach I’ve ever had. I’m open to anything that’s going to help me, but at the same time, I don’t know what to think. You know what he told me this morning? That I have to basically manipulate myself. He didn’t say manipulate, he said train my brain, but I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s what he meant. Train my brain to do what exactly? Things I know I’m not ready for so I can break a bone and be out for the season? Who encourages that?”

Hayden laughed and I felt myself loosening up. “I don’t think he means it in that sense. I think he just wants you to change your way of thinking to a safer route that will have a lasting effect. Think outside the box. He said similar things to Reagan from what I’m told. And I only know this because my sister told me one night. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, and it’s big things.”

I nodded, taking in what he said. Interesting that he worked with Reagan. A light breeze blew the unruly strands of hair that had fallen loose from my ponytail across my face and I pushed them aside.

Hayden grew serious. “Don’t be afraid to question things, but also trust your coach would never do anything to put you at risk. He can be Captain Dick Head when he wants to be, but have a little faith in what he’s capable of doing. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think you could do it.”

I sighed and took another sip of my coffee. His encouraging words helped. So much was up in the air, I wasn’t sure what to think. I wanted so much in so little time. “You’re right.”

He ate the last bite of his sandwich and rubbed his hands together. “When do you work with him again?”

I shrugged, looking around. “I have no idea. I guess when he has time. But God, Hayden. The silence was so strange. He was up close and stretching me and shit.” Hayden smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, and I found myself smiling in return. Oddly, his presence unruffled my feathers. “I didn’t know what to do, what to say. Do I say anything? What did Holly do when she did this?”

“Holly didn’t have to do any extra conditioning.” My shoulders dropped, along with my self-confidence. Hayden sat up taller. “She didn’t have to do what you’re doing because we’ve been at this gym for many years, since we were kids, so she’s already accustomed to its ways.”

I pursed my lips together. He had a point.

“Why don’t you ask Reagan how her sessions went? She worked with him for a while.”

“I have a sinking suspicion she doesn’t like me, so no.”

Hayden looked toward the sky as if he was lost in thought. “Listen,” he said, leaning forward and looking me square in the eyes. “Don’t stress about the small shit. It won’t mean anything in the end. Focus on what’s important, the big picture. Your love of gymnastics. Just do you and you’ll be okay.”

Taking a deep breath, I expelled it and smiled. “I think that’s exactly what I need to do.”

Kova sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face. Doubling my hours and adapting to a new coach proved to be much more daunting than I expected. I’d been to hell since starting this new journey.

And stayed there.

No matter how much I tried, no matter how much effort I put into training, it was never enough for Kova. He could at least give me a little credit so I knew he saw my effort.

“Adrianna,” he said, curling the r. “Why are you holding the bar like that? What the hell did they teach you at that damn gym?” He mumbled to himself in what sounded almost like disgust. My brows bunched together. Every day he had something negative to say. At first I tried to ignore his little comments, but the more he said them, the more aggravated I became. My old gym wasn’t shit. It was good, I just outgrew it.

Kova jumped off the blue spotting box and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to the lower bar. “Hang on here.”

Confused, I looked at him. “I don’t understand.”

One brow arched perfectly. I hated when he did that. “What do you not get? Hang on to the bar and pick your feet up. Now.”

Shaking my head, I obliged, as always, and looked past my arm up at him. My knees were bent, scraping the mat while I waited for him to speak. Coach shook his head, looking dumbfounded at my hands.

I was beyond puzzled.

“Are you not gripping the bar correctly?” he questioned.

“What?”

Kova touched my fingers to answer my question. “You are resting your fingers on your grips, not gripping the actual bar correctly. It is incredible you can even hang on. Do your wrists hurt?”

I stood and let go of the bar, rubbing my wrists. I learned to block out the pain long ago.

“All the time.” In fact, I could use some Motrin right now.

“You are barely holding the bar.”

Mystified, he took my wrist into his hands and began removing my dowel grip by unwinding the Velcro. The grips helped execute high velocity maneuvers during swings that were followed by releasing and catching the bar.

Kova held the slightly tattered grip in front of his face. “This is dangerous, you need new grips. I trust you have more?”