It impresses the hell out of me.
Bull riding isn’t just hanging on for eight seconds.
People who think that have never climbed onto the back of fifteen hundred pounds of bad attitude and pure muscle.
Every ride demands core strength, strong thighs, forearm and grip power, balance, flexibility, endurance, and mental toughness.
And if you don’t take care of your body, the sport will chew you up and spit you out before you’re thirty.
I’ve seen it happen too many times to good riders.
Men who should’ve had another decade in the arena.
Instead, they’re limping around with bad knees and fused backs because they never learned how to take care of their bodies and recover properly.
So, weight lifting and cardio are nonnegotiable if you want to be competitive and not just skate by.
Yoga is also a good idea, but I haven’t gone that fucking far.
I climb onto one of the treadmills, and after a quick warm-up, I start running.
Five miles.
That’s the goal every morning.
No excuses.
If I’m going to stand in front of the kids and preach discipline, I’d better be willing to practice it myself.
The first two miles pass easily. The third burns. And the fourth and fifth hurt.
It doesn’t help that I only got a collective four hours of sleep last night.
Sweat drips down my neck by the time I finally slow the machine.
My lungs work hard to recover, but my legs feel loose and strong.
Good.
Exactly what I wanted.
I grab a towel and wipe my face before heading toward the free weights, which I prefer to the machines.
I choose forty-pound dumbbells and head to one of the weight benches for a set of chest presses and rows just as the gym door opens.
I open my mouth to give my brother shit for being late, but the words die on my tongue.
Because it’s not Royce.
Jovie steps inside, carrying a water bottle.
Her blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail that swings behind her. Earbuds are tucked into her ears.
Completely focused on whatever music she’s listening to, she doesn’t notice me at first.
I wish I could say I immediately look away.
I don’t.
