Book #2 in the Medley series
JENNIFER RUE:
I thought I had my life all mapped out.
But nothing throws a wrench in your plans like finding your fiancé in bed with another woman.
Untangling myself from the damage Darren did is hard, but the more I...
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No matter how crazy my schedule gets or how few hours of sleep I get on a given night, entering the Canham Natatorium instantly soothes my nerves. The stress release of swimming is the only reason I haven't crumbled yet.
I'm walking half a step behind Jayden as we exit the changing room, heading towards the pool. It's just shy of six in the morning on a Monday, and most people would hate that, but starting my week by inhaling a lot of chlorine-filled air has been my preference for years.
Jayden stretches, slapping the lifebuoy at the first column with a flat hand. I follow his lead. It's a silly little tradition we've had since freshman year, a way to slip into athlete mode and forget everything going on outside these doors.
We walk on deck, separating as Jayden heads towards the Wolverines captain, Zach Colton, and I go to stand by the farthest lane, where Mitch and I usually train. He's already putting on cap and goggles and shoots me an easy grin.
"Morning, Davis."
"Hey, man," I say, following his lead and getting ready for warm-up.
Our practice is overseen by Mariana Lewis, U-M swimming's newest coach. She's the reason Mitch is here. He's trained under her since starting college, and when she moved to Ann Arbor this year, he followed.
She's in her late thirties, with short, honey-gold hair. Her prosthetic leg peeks out of her athletic shorts as she walks towards us. "Are you two ready?"
I nod, stretching my arms over my head. "Yeah, let's get going."
She walks us through today's plan. I've been working with Coach Matthews for the past four years, so suddenly switching up this year was strange. But Lewis is damn good at her job, and with the results Mitch has been producing since they met seven years ago, I know I'm in good hands.
We jump in, warming up with ten laps of freestyle. It's never been my best discipline, and Mitch outswims me easily. My specialty is breaststroke, while his is butterfly, which is the reason why he's so massive, even for a swimmer.
After that, we begin drills, changing to each of our disciplines. I'm currently working on increasing my negative split since that's what put me in second place at the Olympics, but it's not going too great.
Even if I do swim faster in the second half of my laps, I somehow add a few seconds to the first half.
"Davis," Lewis barks at me as I stop for a drink of water. She motions me out of the water, and I pull myself out by the arms.
It's weird, suddenly regaining one's weight after being in the water, and even though I do it every single day, I never really get used to it.
"What's up?" I ask, though, from the look on her face, I'm not about to get praised.
"Your time hasn't improved at all since the Olympics," she states. Lewis is very to the point, and she doesn't sugarcoat things.
"I know," I hedge, though a sour sensation spreads in me. My time in Paris was the second best in the world at the time. But swimming, like most sports, is all about outperforming yourself.
