Velocity 100

Chapter 6 - The Training Ground

The days after the World Championships were quieter than Cynthia had expected. Back in Bridgetown, the island was still abuzz with pride over her accomplishment, but for Cynthia, the initial excitement had faded into something more reflective. She had made it to the final at the World Championships. She had run with the best of them. But now, it was time to get back to work.

Her victory was important—she had shown that she belonged among the world's elite sprinters—but it was still only a stepping stone. The Olympic Games were still years away, and the road to that ultimate dream would be paved with countless hours of training, sacrifice, and discipline. The result in Doha had been a glimpse of what was possible, but it was also a reminder of how far she still had to go.

In the mornings, the sun was already high in the sky by the time Cynthia arrived at the track. Barbados was sweltering at the height of summer, and the heat was an almost palpable thing, pressing against her skin like an extra layer of weight. But it didn't matter. When she stepped onto the track, the heat felt like nothing more than a distant buzz, her focus narrowing to the lane ahead.

Cynthia loved the mornings. The stillness before the crowds, the sound of the birds singing in the trees lining the track, the feeling of the soft rubber beneath her spikes—this was her sanctuary. But there was also a sense of urgency now. No longer was she just a hopeful teenager dreaming of Olympic gold. She had tasted success at the highest level, and that success had come with a newfound sense of responsibility. To her country. To her family. To herself.

"Morning, Cyn," Mr. Ashton called from the sidelines, his voice carrying over the quiet expanse of the track.

Cynthia waved and jogged over to him, still stretching out the tightness in her hamstrings. She had been pushing her body hard these past few days, trying to recover while also keeping up with the intensity of the sessions. Each workout had become a challenge, a balancing act between pushing her limits and respecting the fatigue her body was beginning to feel.

Mr. Ashton eyed her as she came to a stop. "You look like you're ready to go," he said with a slight smirk. "But don't think this is going to be easy. We've got a lot of work ahead."

Cynthia nodded; determination etched in her expression. "I'm ready. What's on the schedule today?"

"Starts. Explosive power and acceleration. We need to focus on getting you off the line faster and maintaining that speed through the first 30 meters. The rest of your race is strong, but if you want to compete with the world's best, we need you to be quicker out of the blocks. You've got the potential, Cynthia. But you need to unlock it."

Cynthia listened intently. She had heard the same words many times before. Mr. Ashton had always pushed her, always expected more than what she thought was possible. But that was why he was her coach. He saw something in her, something beyond the limits of what most people could see. He believed she had the talent to go far. And that belief was the fuel that powered her own.

"I'm ready," she repeated, clapping her hands together to shake off any lingering doubt.

The first drill was simple, but brutal. Starting from the blocks, Cynthia had to sprint 20 meters as fast as she could, focusing on explosiveness from the moment the gun went off. Each rep was followed by a short rest and a review. Mr. Ashton would watch intently, stopwatch in hand, and then give her feedback on everything: her posture, her leg turnover, the angle of her arms, the power in her push-off.

"Faster. Push harder with your legs. You've got to want it more."

With each repetition, Cynthia felt her body respond, but also begin to strain. The first few starts had been smooth, each stride more powerful than the last. But now, as the workout continued, fatigue started to settle in, and the weight of the previous weeks' training began to take its toll. Sweat beaded on her forehead, drenching her shirt, but she refused to let it show.

She could hear the rhythm of her coach's voice, steady and insistent. "Come on, Cynthia. You're stronger than this. Again!"

And again, she went, pushing her legs to the limit, forcing herself to reach a level of power she hadn't known she had. She could feel the muscles in her quads screaming for relief, but she ignored the pain. This was what she had signed up for. This was what it took to be the best.

At the end of the session, Cynthia collapsed onto the track, gasping for breath, her body trembling from the effort. It had been one of the most intense starts drills she had ever done, but she knew it was exactly what she needed. Mr. Ashton crouched beside her, offering a towel and a bottle of water.

"You're getting there," he said, his voice calm despite the intensity of the training. "But we need to keep sharpening that edge. Every day, you've got to push harder."

"I know," Cynthia replied, wiping the sweat from her brow. She sat up, feeling the ache in her legs. "I'll get there. I'm not giving up."

It was a promise she made to herself, but it was also a promise to everyone who had supported her. Her mother, who had believed in her from day one. Her friends, who had cheered her on from the sidelines. The coaches who had shaped her, from the local club in Barbados to the international camps where she had learned to push beyond her limits. And now, she was pushing herself harder than ever.

The weeks passed, and with each training session, Cynthia began to see improvements. Her starts were faster, more explosive. Her top-end speed was stronger than it had been in years. Her body was becoming more efficient, fine-tuned to execute every movement with precision.

But Cynthia wasn't just working on physical strength. There were the mental aspects of training that were just as important. Mr. Ashton was constantly reminding her that the greatest athletes were those who could master the mental game as much as the physical one.

"You've got the speed, Cynthia. You've got the power. Now we need the mentality to match," he would say. "The competition is fierce. You can't just be faster than them—you've got to *believe* you're faster. You have to *see* yourself winning before you even step onto that track."

To help build that mental toughness, Cynthia started visualizing her races every night before bed. She would lie on the floor of her room, eyes closed, and picture herself standing at the starting line, the crowd roaring in the background. She'd imagine the moment when the starter's pistol cracked the air, the surge of power in her legs as she took off, the sound of her breath as she pushed past the 30-meter mark, the final burst of speed at the finish line. She visualized the feeling of crossing the line, of hearing her time flash up on the screen. Of hearing the roar of the crowd as her name was called out.

These mental rehearsals were just as important as the physical training. They helped her believe in herself, especially when the doubt crept in. They helped her see herself not just as a talented athlete, but as a future Olympic champion.

As the months passed, Cynthia's reputation began to grow. Word of her success at the World Championships, where she had made it to the final, had spread like wildfire across the Caribbean. She was featured in local newspapers and sports magazines, interviewed on radio stations, and even invited to meet with officials at the national track and field association.

But despite the increased attention, Cynthia kept her head down and stayed focused on the task ahead. There were more races to run. More records to break. More work to do. Every time she stood on the track, it felt like the world was watching. But it didn't matter. The only person who mattered now was the one looking back at her from the starting blocks.

The 2024 Olympics were still a few years away, but every race, every workout, every early morning on the track was a step closer. With each passing day, she was becoming more of the sprinter she had always dreamed of being.

And when the time came to race on the world's biggest stage, Cynthia knew she would be ready.