Until my last breath

15

July 2022
Barcelona,Spain

Back in Barcelona, it's straight back to work.
Alejandro, my trainer, doesn't waste a second before reminding me what's at stake. He's in full drill-sergeant mode, and with Monaco—the Golden Grand Prix—around the corner, I need it.

We're up at dawn the next day, and I find myself running through the morning chill, Alejandro pacing behind me like a shadow. His voice cuts through the silence, sharp and relentless.

"Ten more kilometers, then three sprints with the altitude mask. Continua!"

I can barely respond, but I manage a thumbs-up, focusing on steadying my breathing. My legs burn, and the mask makes it feel like I'm breathing through a straw, but Alejandro's shouts keep me going. "Perfetto! Vamos, Rita!"

The last kilometer is a battle. I feel my balance slipping, every step a war with the treadmill's unyielding pace. Alejandro and Marina are both shouting, urging me forward until I finally hear the blessed beeping that signals the end. I pull off the mask and step off the treadmill, every inch of me aching as I collapse onto the bench, struggling to catch my breath. Alejandro hands me a bottle of water, a proud smile breaking through his strict exterior.

"Astro," he says, patting my shoulder as I gulp down water. "That was really good, Margarita. Bravo."

I roll my eyes at the nickname. "You've got to stop with that."

"Never." He grins, pointing toward the weights. "I'll call you whatever I want as long as I'm the one who keeps you fit."

I chuckle, already knowing what's next. "Neck training, right?"

"Esattamente," he says, not missing a beat. "Stand up, let's get that neck of yours all strong and big again."

I lean my head back, groaning. "Oh, mon dieu."

"Don't mon dieu me, get up!" he snaps, pulling me to my feet.

He places the headband over my forehead as I settle onto the bench. Neck training is essential for handling the g-forces on the track, but it's also the bane of my existence. Alejandro starts with 10 kilograms, which I manage fine, holding my head steady against the resistance. But he doesn't give me more than a minute before increasing the weight to 20.

"Bene, bene. But it's about to get a bit harder," he warns, grabbing the 40 kg weight. "Quick water break?"

I shake my head, determination flaring. "No, bring it on."

With the 40 kilograms hooked, I breathe deeply, closing my eyes as the strain hits. My grip on the bench tightens, each second dragging on as I push against the force pulling my head. Alejandro adjusts the band and the weights, watching me closely.

"Ouf," I breathe out as the timer beeps. Relief floods through me, but Alejandro's already preparing the next level.

"Amazing job," Marina says, passing me more water. I nod a quick thanks, focusing on my breathing, feeling the stretch in my neck and shoulders. This last weight will be the toughest yet.

Alejandro sets up the 70 kilograms, adjusting it carefully. "Take a deep breath, inspire, expire. 30 seconds. You ready?"

I nod, focusing, and then shout, "Go!"

The pressure hits immediately, and it's brutal. My hands grip the bench so hard it feels like the metal might dig into my palms. My whole body fights to stay steady, groans slipping out as every nerve strains to keep my head aligned. The timer feels like it's moving in slow motion.

"Only ten more seconds! Breathe!" Alejandro shouts, his voice barely breaking through the roar in my head. Ten seconds. Just ten seconds, but it feels like an eternity. My jaw clenches, and a single tear escapes as I grit my teeth, focusing on the final seconds.

"Formidabile, Bianchi!" Alejandro says when it finally ends, his voice filled with pride as he kisses my forehead. "Bravo, bravo, bravo."

I lean back, breathing hard, still in shock at how tough it always is. "This never gets easier," I chuckle.

"But you fight through it every time, champ." Marina takes my hand, helping me sit up and inspecting my palm, which now has a scar from gripping the bench so tightly. "Every time," she sighs, shaking her head.

Alejandro comes over, wiping off his hands as he sits beside me on the bench, his clipboard in hand. "So, we did grip and back training, cardio, a 20-kilometer run, and neck training. Impressive," he says, marking things off the list. "Tomorrow we'll start with reflex training, then more cardio before your first Monaco practice session. We'll finish up with more grip and endurance work."

I nod, feeling the exhaustion settle over me like a weight, but there's a satisfaction beneath it, knowing I gave everything today. Alejandro claps my shoulder one more time. "Now, stretch, drink your protein shake, and get some sleep. Tomorrow is another tough day."

I grin, even as I feel my muscles protesting. "Night, Ale."

He waves, his grin widening as he calls after me, "Goodnight, Margarita!"

"Shut up!" I yell back, laughing as I head to the locker room, already bracing myself for tomorrow's round.