Page 56 of Racing Hearts

“What do you mean?” I protest. “I’ve done everything that beautiful maniac has asked of me. I haven’t done any of my own workouts. I keep my mouth shut when he suddenly changes our metric goals halfway through practice. I even did his cursed standing challenge last weekend. Even though there is approximately zero chance that tipping a boat three dozen times is going to make me row faster.”

Sofi lifts the phone so her expression is bathed in the harsh light of her screen. Her eyes are flat and serious, no trace of her usual mischievous smile. “Yeah, but you haven’t been committing to it.”

I frown back at her. “You sound like Adrian.”

“Maybe because he’s right? You’re going through the motions. It’s not going to work if you’re doing it half-assed.”

I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m not even really sure what his approach is, other than something vague about getting out of my head. “So, you think I should, what?”

“Apply that big, beautiful brain of yours to understanding his method. And then apply your extraordinary discipline to executing it.”

We sit in silence as I tap my fingers against the comforter and consider that.

I suppose I have three options, here.

One: I quit on Adrian, write my own program, and lose my deal with Carla. That would mean I’d need to beat both the Canadian and the Brazilian to get my spot back. At this point, a near impossibility.

Two: I keep doing what I have been for the last couple of weeks. Admittedly, that has gotten me nowhere.

Or…three: I take Sofi’s suggestion. I really apply myself to Adrian’s approach and take it just as seriously as I would if it were a program I’d written myself.

I glance back at my phone screen, click away from the call, and flip back to Camila’s race times. I’m not going to beat this woman if I don’t make a change. A big one. Maybe Adrian’s method will work, maybe not. Either way, what I said to him at brunch is true. I don’t want to look back on this summer and wonder: What if? At least this way, I’ll have given it my all. I’ll have tried every conceivable option. I won’t have any regrets.

“At this point, Kath, what do you have to lose?” Sofi asks like she’s reading my mind.

I clear my throat. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know,” Sofi says. “Although that hasn’t stopped you from ignoring my unusual but effective advice in the past.”

“I don’t care how many times you tell me to, I’m not going to start whispering affirmations to my boat.”

“Suit yourself,” Sofi says. “You’re only hurting you.”

“And you, just a little bit, every time I don’t listen.”

She laughs. “You’re not supposed to know that. I should go. I have a physical therapy appointment in ten. I’m glad we had this talk, though.”

She hangs up.

I stare at my phone for another long moment, sigh, and pull open my text message chain with Adrian. Our entire exchange is comically brief considering how much mental space this man has occupied. I have one group message from him from last week, when he let the team know that he’d be late to practice the next morning, and one direct message with a link to an article he found on blood oxygen testing. It’s a topic we’d debated furiously earlier. I thought maybe the article would support his position, but to my surprise, it supported mine.

Question, I type. Let’s say I wanted to really commit to your program. How should I rest today?

My phone lights up with his response almost immediately. Parker? Blink twice if you’ve been kidnapped.

I chuckle as I type. I’m desperate here.

Clearly.

I’m about to follow up when Adrian’s dots dance again.

Moments later, his message appears. Recovery is enhanced with endorphins. And endorphins are best produced by fun.

Fun?

I can practically feel Adrian smiling as I read his response. “Fun” happens when you engage in an activity purely for pleasure, instead of following the advice of Rowing Quarterly.

As opposed to the advice of my temporary coach?