We sat and for a few minutes prepared food and began to eat. “I guess you’ve both heard that I’m a senior, majoring in finance, but this year my focus will be on leading RCC to a national championship, possibly taking one myself, and then going pro. Rice just threw me out of the jock dorm and I’m living off campus for the first time. I’d like your back stories if you care to share. Janet, why don’t you start?”
Janet began. “I’m a biology major, pre-med. I’ve been riding at UCF and before–for about five years now. My times are generally very good. And I hope I can contribute to the success of the team. I’m serious about cycling. It’s the most important part of my life right now after my studies. I’m not in a relationship or even seriously dating. I transferred to Rice for the academics, but I’m pleased that Rice has a champion cycling team. I recognize that I am the only female and that Rice cycling is known to be misogynist. I hope to change that.”
“You won’t have any problems with the team. The coaches tend to be a little ancient in their views, particularly Nelson, but they’ll get with the program.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard. I was told that Nelson was resigning.”
“I didn’t hear that, but it is possible. He did threaten.”
“We’re going to have some practical problems–the team is small. So Rice has allocated only a small club house and there is only one locker room. It is completely open, really one large room, and with a gang shower. I don’t see how we can handle privacy.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have five brothers. I’ll either dress and shower at home or the nearby women’s track gym–or I may scandalize all of you guys and just strip and shower with y’all. It won’t bother me.”
“Wow. I’d like to see that.” I started to blush. “Wait, I didn’t mean it that way. I didn’t mean see you, I meant see the reactions.”
“I understand. But I may just try some shock troop tactics.”
“I can’t wait, but give me a little warning so I can respond when the comments start coming.”
“And you Reg. I don’t understand your situation. You’re varsity cross country. We practice and compete at the same time. What’s up?”
“My great uncle is Joseph Gallagher.”
“Wow. The most famous black cyclist in history.”
“Yeah. He’s been coaching me. I had decided that if I made the club, I would resign from the cross country team.”
“Why didn’t you start a few years ago? You’re just going to be an alternate with us. I understand you are one of the cross country stars.”
“I’ve been commuting between Houston and NYC for a few years because of the modeling. I really didn’t have time to consider the club until this year. Joe convinced me this summer that I really needed to give it a try. And after a few weeks, I expect to move up from alternate status. When I get to prove my stuff in road racing, I’ll be your wingman.”
“Confident aren’t we?”
“Yeah. I know your times–and mine. And although I’m a senior, I’m in the five year program so I’ll be eligible next year after you graduate. I want your position.”
So Peter, my up and coming protégé was going to have some competition. Never hurt.
“I can tell you that this is a great club, in some cases despite the coaching staff. We get along well together. I’m actually hoping to go pro next year, but that’s going to take a lot of doing right now. Both of you are welcome. I want to assure you there are no hard feelings about the strange process that was imposed on us this year. Maybe the coaches should have seen it coming and adjusted before, but who knows. I look forward to riding with you.”
Janet answered, “Thanks Chet. We can see why the team wants you as captain. We know your abilities. Now we are getting a feeling for your management skills. You already have our respect. I’m looking forward to riding with you.”
As Janet rose to return her tray, Reg smiled at me and whispered, “And I’m looking forward to riding you.” (Did he really mean that phrase?)
“Ok. Let’s head out to Memorial for some real cycling.”
The afternoon was typical late summer Houston: hot and humid. We all decided to catch van rides to the staging area in Memorial–only about 4 miles away. The club had set up a tent with some shade, waters, towels etc. But Coach Nelson was absent. His two young assistants, barely older than we were, claimed ignorance of his absence and wanted to start the practice immediately. We grouped into two teams, each with a coach, and set out. Each of us trained for speed when we biked individually, so these practices focused on strategy, moving within the pack, up and down, getting ready for the break, blocking and similar tactics Then we practiced sprints. Two hours later we were drenched and tired. Fortunately the promised late afternoon thundershower had not yet hit.
It was late, so I decided to head back to the condo on my cycle by myself rather than using the van. Reg asked to join me and we set out together. It turned out that his apartment was only a couple of blocks from our condo. His building was almost entirely student occupied and had a rep for epic parties. When he saw the condo, he whistled. “I didn’t know our cap was a man of means. Are you getting endorsements already?”
“I’m not–but I got lucky when they took my dorm room a few days ago. I was just about to be homeless–or worse, forced into one of Rice’s notorious student shared suites. But I remembered a comment a friend made during the summer. He was a neighbor and had just graduated from UT, planning to attend med school here. He had an extra room. We met last summer near Austin when I was training in the hill country. When the Rice snafu happened, I called and he readily agreed. He hadn’t found a roommate yet. He said the condo was almost always empty anyway given his schedule. You’ll meet him some time–but his studies have him so busy, he’s rarely around.”
Reg got ready to continue on to his place. “Will I see you tomorrow at the club gym?”
“Maybe. I like to work out early if I don’t have classes. I thought I might use the condo gym which is always quiet early.” Before thinking, I added, “Do you want to join me? I could use a spotter.” Geoff would have a heart attack if he thought I was regularly working out with this guy. But, the invitation had been extended.
“Sure. How early?”
“Around 7:00. I generally work out for about 2 hours. Text me if you decide. I’ll call you with my number so it’s in your phone. You’ll have to text me on arrival or the security concierge will probably not let you in. If not, the club gym is available all day. Your ID card is programmed to admit you.”
“Thanks, Chet. Great start to what I hope will be a great relationship.” He reached over, grabbed my upper arm and squeezed, tapped me on the butt and pushed off toward his apartment.
BD