Breaking the Grid

enthusiasm

"Thank you," I said warmly to the woman walking beside me as we strolled through the bustling paddock.

She nodded, a polite smile gracing her face. "It's lovely here," she said, her tone casual but genuinely intrigued. "I've never been to a Grand Prix before."

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I glanced at her. "Well, you picked a good one to start with. The atmosphere here is always something else."

The paddock was alive with activity, the hum of engines blending with the chatter of teams, journalists, and fans. People moved quickly, carrying equipment or cameras, while others stopped for quick interviews or conversations.

The woman beside me—Michelle, if I remembered correctly—adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she glanced around. "It's definitely impressive. I can see why Alexandra loves it so much."

At the mention of Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, I tilted my head curiously. "So, you're friends with Alex?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "We met through work. I'm an athletic coach, and Monaco isn't exactly a big place. You run into people often."

"Small world," I said, smiling back. "Alex is great. Haven't spent much time with her, but from what I've seen, she's lovely."

"She is," Michelle agreed, her eyes scanning the paddock. "She told me a bit about this world, but it's so different actually being here."

As we walked, we were interrupted occasionally by people stopping to greet me. Members of my team waved, giving quick thumbs-ups or high-fives as they passed. A few other drivers called out jokingly, and I responded with a grin and a playful comment.

"Seems like you know everyone," Michelle said with a small laugh as another engineer stopped to chat briefly before hurrying off.

"Perks of the job," I said with a shrug. "It's a small community, really. Once you're in, you see the same faces all the time."

We paused near one of the garages, and Michelle gestured toward the cars being worked on. "It's fascinating seeing how much goes into it. Coaching athletes is one thing, but this? This is a whole different level of precision."

"It is," I said, nodding. "It's not just about the driver. The team, the car, the strategy—it all has to come together perfectly. It's like a puzzle."

She smiled, clearly impressed. "And you're at the center of it. No pressure, right?"

"None at all," I joked, earning a laugh from her.

We continued walking, weaving through the paddock as the energy around us buzzed with anticipation for the upcoming race.

"So, you're an athletic coach," I said, circling back to our earlier conversation. "What kind of athletes do you work with?"

"A mix," she said, her tone growing more animated. "Mostly endurance sports—triathletes, runners, swimmers. I help them with everything from strength training to mental preparation."

"That's impressive," I said, genuinely intrigued. "It must be rewarding, seeing their progress."

"It is," she said with a nod. "I love what I do. Watching someone push past their limits and achieve something they didn't think was possible—it's the best feeling."

I glanced at her, a thought crossing my mind. "Do you ever work with motorsport athletes? Or is that outside your realm?"

"Not yet," she said thoughtfully. "But I'd love to. I imagine the mental side of this sport is just as important as the physical."