Sickled
Let's skip the fact that I burnt my toast this morning.
Food and I have a love-hate relationship okay!
So after Joey made me breakfast. We drove to the training centre. I told him I was going to break him yesterday, so I am set on finding his weakness. We only drove because by the end of the day he won't want to walk.
I booked the second and third floors for the day. I'm not playing around.
"Alright, we are going to do the stretch I hope you remember some of it," I tell him once we made it to the third floor.
"That's a tricky comment because you have ultimate control of all drills." He replies to my comment.
He's not stupid. Good to know.
"I need you to promise me that you will listen to what I say. Everything I say that regards your training." I take my job very seriously.
We shake on it.
"If you feel stretched enough go to the starting line I want to see 1600!" I chant.
Joey has a beautiful starting position. Most athletes would have their weight on their feet put Joey puts most of it on his hands. When the air gun sounds, he gets that slight airtime pushing him forward. It's like he flies forward then zooms off.
When he ran I saw something I had never seen before. Joey isn't just unbalanced. It's like he wobbles then his pace shifts.
"Joey stop!" I call out to him.
He jogs towards me, "what happened?"
I look him in the eyes. "Take off your shoes and socks."
He furrows his eyebrows, "why?"
"You agreed to do everything I say, Easterbrook, now take off the footwear."
He takes them off.
"Sit," I say.
He takes a seat on the bench and I pick up his foot. "Relax your foot." He is tense in all places.
His feet are so sickled it's not funny.
"When you get to your peak do you feel like you are going to trip?" I question him.
He nods.
I want to know his thought process when he runs because I just thought this was an endurance problem. There may be a bigger issue here.
"So when I am at the starting line waiting for the gun to go off... I think of my Ma and the sound her chancla makes when she takes it off in less than a second. That's how I first started to run. I would jump and dash. I can run faster in a lower position. Kinda like speed skaters. But something happens each time I get up in a full stance. I try and ignore it and focus on my lane and the prize."
"Have you ever danced or played football?" I'm being so serious.
He hesitates but shakes his head.
I walk away for a second and come back with a drone.
"I wanna test something. Don't say a word to Lamar... now get back on the track, 100 meters."
Joey gets his socks and shoes back on and heads to the start. I slip my phone in the drone and set it for tracking movement. Then I hit record.
I pull the trigger on the air gun and Joey sprints, the drone follows.
"Alright grab a drink and meet me downstairs," I say guiding the drone back to myself.
I watch the video in slow motion. When Joey reaches that peak his feet sickle throwing him off balance which messes up his pace. Without it, he would be way faster than Amarion.
I struck gold with this guy. I chuckle.
"Hey what are you laughing about?" Joey enters the gym.
"You are faster than Amarion," I say.
"I've never beaten him in a race before."
"Yeah, I think I've found that problem. Your feet are sickled when you stand straight. Like right now just lean forward."
Joey leans forward and he subconsciously turns his feet straight.
"There you did it. It's your muscle memory. I think we are going to need to stop running until that's changed."
"Izzy I run every day! What do you mean I need to stop?"
"This place right here is going to be your second home."
He looks around the gym, "princess I don't do gyms."
"My house my rules. Do you want this Joey?"
"More than anything."
I smile, "Then let's get to work. First question how much can you lift on a single leg?" I'm thinking of new drills on the spot for Joey. I have never met an athlete quite like him.
I give Joey two twenty pound kettle balls. I instruct him to hold a squat and lift one leg.
He immediately has that tendency to sickle the extended foot. I took the liberty of turning and holding his foot to the outer side.
I see the look of discomfort on his face. I think I found a weakness.
"What's wrong Joey do you want to stop?" I ask innocently.
"I won't stop until you give me my next instruction." He grunts out.
Smart. He noticed that if I hear doubt you hold the pose longer.
"Stand straight and squat down extending the right leg out," I order.
He has more trouble on this side.
When we are done with that we go through other various workouts.
For our cool down, we stretch. I'm a bit worried about the topic I want to cover.
I look at him, "Joey do you have goals health-wise. I know you are already a muscular man but is there anything you are working towards that's not related to your sport?"
"I want to lose muscle mass."
I let out a breath, "that's what I was thinking about."
Joey looks down, "I just don't know how."
"Yes you are on the buffer side of track athletes but it's not a bad thing-" I am cut off.
"Isabella, I am 225 pounds. I am 6 foot 1. Track runners are slim. I am broad. The more I try to lose the muscle the more it builds up. When I tell people that I do track and field they immediately assume I do discus or shot put."
"Fine, we'll do this the hard way. I'm restricting your activities. No running until you get those straight feet. No more weights. I'm restricting you to a cardio-based workout plan. No more arms back or chest workouts. I am cutting your diet. One question... do you have a set weight goal?
"170 pounds."
"Perfect. Joey Easterbrook your life changes today. I'm cutting our day short because I only got an hour of sleep!"
"Actually you slept while I was doing your hair. You got a good three hours princess."
"Whatever let's go I know you're exhausted."
Joey gets up and wobbles against me proving the point I made.
Don't mess with Izzy and her job. You won't find anyone more serious.
Well my people, it's Thursday once again.
And once again I'll say I might upload on Saturday know well I most likely won't (awkwardly scratches back of head)
ANYWAYS...till Tuesday