Chapter 5
Chapter five
Laney
Sole Purpose
“I can’t believe it’s time for Chattanooga already.” Dee says as she sets my duffel in the backseat while I strap my bike to the car four weeks later.
“Darn tootin’” I reply and she laughs.
“Are you nervous?”
I’m scared shitless. “A little, mostly excited though.”
And the second half is true. I am excited. The 70.3 distance last month felt good and tomorrow I get to double it.
I’m trying to complete a full length TitaniumPerson race.
I bonked in the marathon when I attempted the race last year.
But I’ve leveled up my training and I’m just desperate enough to kill myself trying.
Another reason to be nervous?
Miguel Garcia is competing.
I know because I checked the registration list.
Each time I’ve left my home in the last three weeks I’ve been on alert for the tall, extra large, iced americano that is Miguel.
Our paths haven’t crossed again.
“I kind of want to go.” Dee muses as she closes the door and turns to me.
“Why? It’s super boring to stand on the sidelines.”
And I don’t know how to tell her this is something I need to do alone. I need to prove I can do this and if I have Dee there to protect me from the fall I’m not sure I’ll grind it out.
Her safety net might hold me back.
“I can be a sports spectator with just as much excitement as the ones competing.”
“You’re right, excuse me for belittling your fandom potential.”
“Thank you.” She is satisfied.
“But seriously, I am so busy the whole time I wouldn’t really be able to spend any time with you.”
And, you don’t know I’m sleeping in your car.
I told her I’m bringing my pillow because it’ll be better for my back and she bought it.
“I know, I know, you need to focus.”
Focus. Right.
On my race.
Not the other athletes.
Or, one in particular.
I haven’t seen Miguel since he ran with me on the path three weeks ago. I won’t deny the bursts of sprints at the end of my run helped me keep pace during my closing miles. I will deny that I enjoyed sparring with him.
But not seeing him doesn’t mean I haven’t seen him.
He has starred in my dreams most nights since.
And a few day dreams too when I have a spare moment to get lost in the idea of a handsome, muscular man showering me with affection.
Something tells me if Miguel gives his attention to a woman, he gives her everything. He seems like an all-in kind of guy.
You have to be if you want to succeed in TitaniumPerson races.
Personally, I am going all in by sleeping in a car, again.
“Alright Laney-loo, drive safe. Text me when you get there.” Dee pulls me into a hug. “And good luck. I’m proud of you for doing this. Who needs to be just a boring old regular triathlete when you can be a TitaniumPerson!”
I laugh. “Exactly.”
“And, I just have to say it–”
“No, you don’t.” I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing what’s coming.
“Yes, I do. No matter the result, your dad would be proud.”
“Dee,” I sigh.
“Your mom too.” She tacks on quickly before forcing me into another hug.
“Thanks.” I say quietly as she lets me go. I’m not so sure about my mom feeling proud of this but if Dee wants to believe it, I’ll let her. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
With final goodbyes I climb in and start the nine and a half hour drive to Tennessee.
The singular, erratically flickering, yellow street lamp in the parking lot is giving horror movie vibes. And the fact I haven’t seen another human in like twenty minutes?
Not helping.
But you don’t actually want anyone to be here. If people were here, you could be found sleeping in a car in a creepy as fuck parking lot surrounded by national forrest land in southern Tennessee.
Because if you’re found, you’ll have to answer questions. Like why are you sleeping in a car in a creepy as fuck parking lot surrounded by national forrest land in southern Tennessee?
I’m doing it because I can’t afford a hotel room.
Tomorrow's race is the first of three regional qualifiers this season and if I podium, I earn a spot at the TP World Championships. Each up-rank I earn gets me that much closer to a sponsorship which is the only thing that will make all the effort and time and money already spent worth it.
And, oh yeah, I can’t let my dad down. Again.
My stomach twists with the especially noxious combination of anxiety and adrenaline.
The drive from Chicago was fine, I made a couple extra stops to stretch and jog laps around the rest areas.
I have an alarm set for four thirty tomorrow morning so I have time to get over to the race and get set up.
Registration today was simple. I got my gear bags, bib, my age category swim cap in neon green, and the number tag for my upgraded bike.
The new-to-me bike is easily 6 lbs lighter than my old one because of its carbon frame. It’s last year’s model but the guy at the shop assured me the design didn’t change drastically with the new release this year.
On the test ride, I clipped in and fucking flew.
At this point, I value this thing more than my life.
Leaving it in the transition area tonight was nerve-racking. I have barely let the thing out of my sight since I got it.
I’m counting on this bike to help me tighten up my time in the second discipline.
In the swim, all I can do is try to swim faster, in the run, same thing. But in the bike leg, I can upgrade my equipment and see an improvement without having to train any harder.
I spent more time practicing my transitions since the half TP because my times were atrocious. I saw a lot of people using rubber bands to keep things in place on their bikes so I swiped a few from the restaurant last night.
My diet has been okay, probably a few too many shift meals from Dee, but I enjoyed my dinner tonight and have a plan for breakfast tomorrow.
Sleeping in the backseat of a car probably won't help my body perform at it’s best tomorrow but I'll just do a few extra stretches in the morning to loosen up.
I glance around the lot again and make sure no one is around to see me settle in. I’m not ashamed of my choices, but I’m not proud either. And who knows if there’s some crazy local law against sleeping in your car.
I get out and wrap myself in a blanket. It isn't supposed to get too cold overnight but I can't afford to run the car for an extra blast of heat and waste the gas so I need to bundle up.
Doing my best impression of a burrito with feet, I slide into the backseat and fluff the pillow I brought from home with my shoulders.
Okay, you’re sleeping in a car. In a parking lot. In a rural town outside of Chattanooga. Everything’s fine.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to forget every vulnerable-girl-gets-attacked or, gulp, unalived story I've ever read or watched on TV.
And Dee and I listen to true-crime podcasts while cleaning the apartment and then watch murder shows to relax at the end of the day so there's a lot of stories to push out of my mind.
Maybe after my next paycheck I'll buy some mace.
Probably should have done that a long time ago because I am up early to run and out late making deliveries. All with an unreliable phone.
Okay, fine, in the dim lights of this parking lot I can safely admit, I haven't made the safest choices.
But greatness doesn't come from playing it safe.
My fingers are falling asleep so I sit up and try to make sure I have better blood flow as I curl up in the car. I flop my head back and roll it from side to side a bit to get more comfortable.
BAM!
I bolt upright and gasp for air as panic courses through my veins.
"Laney, open up!"
I turn my blanket cocooned body, arms pinned inside and thus unable to defend myself, towards the window.
"Miguel?"
Standing outside the car is Miguel Garcia in a black hoodie and running shorts that show off his lean and muscular legs. And his leg tattoo. My eyes fixate on the lion encompassing his knee and upper thigh. It’s like the lion is staring at me, I almost feel compelled to talk to it.
Hello friend.
"Laney, my eyes are up here." He (Miguel, not his lion tattoo) says. My cheeks heat and I turn my gaze up to him. "Better. Now, open the door."
"Why?" I ask. Less to be bratty but more to buy me some time to let my blush fade.
"Because I think you're trying to sleep in your car and that's unacceptable."
"According to who?"
"Me." He pauses. "And society."
"But is it actually against the law?"
"Somewhere, I'm sure it is." He grumbles and then he tries the door.
The split second before it opens, I realize I forgot to lock it when I got into my backseat bedroom.
My arms are still wrapped in the blanket so I can't catch myself and my body goes tumbling out. I squeeze my eyes shut bracing for the impact of my face on the asphalt, when instead my nose meets man-thigh.
Hi Mr. Lion. Nice to meet you, I’m Laney.
"Jesus." Miguel curses under his breath as he leans down and lifts me back into the seat. "Unlocked door and unable to defend yourself? Do you have a death wish?"
"Not particularly, no."
He looks around the backseat of the car.
The entire desolate state of my life on display.
The box of Nature Valley granola bars that Dee made me swear I wouldn't eat in her car. The gas station banana peels next to them. The box of rice krispie treats I’m saving for breakfast. And the duffel full of my race day gear with a piece of duct tape holding the strap together.
And sure, the fact I'm sleeping in the back of a car says plenty on its own.
"Let's go."
"Go where?" I ask him as he steps back, seemingly to give me room to get out.
"To the hotel. You need a room. With a locking door."
"The car door locks, I just forgot to do it."
"Comforting." He deadpans. "But the backseat of a car in the hotel parking lot is not the same thing as a room."