Chapter Sixteen: 11.4 Seconds

From the following day onward, guided by Rousseau, Juno began consciously training her core muscle groups. Coach Li Na noticed this change, asked a few questions, and after reminding Juno not to overexert herself, maintained a tolerant and observant attitude.

Most coaches of this generation in the country are former athletes turned trainers, rarely formally educated in the field. Sports science remains a relatively uncommon discipline domestically, and accordingly, there are few researchers—coaches with such backgrounds are even rarer. Thus, this generation of domestic coaches tends to favor developing the body's instincts and passing down successful experiences, providing athletes ample space for flexible growth.

Of course, the outcomes of such training methods are mixed. The advantage is that the strengths of the previous generation of athletes are continually handed down; the drawback is that if the previous generation had no achievements, the next generation is unlikely to excel either. In dominant sports like table tennis, this method can forge an invincible team, but in track events such as sprinting and high jump, progress is much harder to come by.

The national team is now actively recruiting coaches from abroad with advanced training experience, but the provincial team in Pengcheng does not have such resources; they must rely on the old methods and local ingenuity to push forward. Thus, Li Na was quite pleased with Juno's "self-development."

Yet, even with Rousseau's guidance, it was impossible for Juno to show results in just a day or two. There are no shortcuts in competitive sports—every improvement in performance is paid for with countless beads of sweat.

Fortunately, track events, though competitive, involve relatively low levels of teamwork. In sports like football or basketball, no matter how hard you train, you can't overcome the burden of a teammate who just coasts along. Still, there is one track event that demands seamless team cooperation, leaving no room for error: the relay.

...

"Intra-team competition," Lu Jinrong whistled, gathering the sprinters together. Only forty-five days remain until the provincial games. Though it's just a competition between cities within the province, there can be no relaxation—sprinting is not Pengcheng's strong suit.

Lu Jinrong had seen athletes lose what should have been theirs through carelessness, but never had he seen someone improve their performance through relaxation. The notion that proper rest and relaxation will lead to better results—Lu Jinrong never believed such claims.

Athletes are warriors; warriors must keep every nerve taut, weapon in hand, bullet chambered, ever ready for battle.

Many of the current domestic coaches, or their predecessors, teammates, sparring partners, or even themselves, were soldiers. They firmly believe and practice the theory that "athletes are warriors, the field is the battlefield."

Now, the provincial sprint team competes every three days in small matches, every five days in larger ones, sometimes even inviting athletes from neighboring cities to join. The young men in the sprint team often say, thank goodness Lu Jinrong isn’t a football coach, or training alone would turn into a city league.

At the sound of Lu Jinrong’s whistle, ten or so young men clad in vests and shorts, brimming with sinewy muscle, lined up and reported their numbers. The sheer masculine energy of the scene could easily overwhelm any young woman present—though perhaps it was just the smell of sweat.

"Pairs—choose your own opponent. Next, we’ll begin competitive training," Lu Jinrong announced.

Everyone began seeking their competitors, usually pairing up by dormitory. Rousseau immediately locked eyes with Tian Shiwei, who felt the heat of that battle-ready gaze and sighed.

Next came team after team competing, this being a small match, so pairs. In the larger matches, it would be groups of five to seven, fully simulating official competitions.

Warming up in the queue, Tian Shiwei couldn’t help but chatter, "Old Lu, there’s still a gap between us. Sure, your best time is 11.5 seconds, but I can run 11.5 seconds effortlessly. My 11.5 is because I can run 11.5; yours is because you can only run 11.5. That’s the difference."

Rousseau stayed silent, stretching, focusing, using self-hypnosis to coax his "endurance" into a rising state. It was tricky; last night's excitement from the race with Juno had pushed his limits. He gulped some electrolyte drink for a boost, and finally managed to adjust his endurance out of depletion and into a slight upward curve. Just right.

"You could choose someone else to compete against. Your current performance puts you mid-range in the team; there's no need to always challenge me—I'm the summit. Otherwise, it’ll just dent your confidence," Tian Shiwei continued.

Rousseau, as usual, said nothing.

In Tian Shiwei's eyes, Rousseau was a bit withdrawn. In Rousseau's view, Tian Shiwei was possessed by a spirit of verbosity, not quite right in the head. Yet, once both stood on the starting line, all perceptions of the other distilled into two words: opponent.

Respect every opponent. Value every opponent. Even when a lion hunts a rabbit, it must give its all.

This was the principle Lu Jinrong had instilled in every provincial sprinter—and though Rousseau had only been in the team for half a month, he had already taken it to heart.

At present, Rousseau’s agility stood at 37, strength at 30—each up by one or two points since joining, allowing him to reach a best time of 11.5 seconds. But the best time Rousseau had seen from Tian Shiwei was 11.1 seconds.

A gap of 0.4 seconds—a chasm. In terms Rousseau could understand, Tian Shiwei’s stats—agility and strength—were each about five points higher, plus a five-year experience advantage. For Rousseau to beat Tian Shiwei now, he’d have to break the latter’s legs.

Rousseau looked at Tian Shiwei, his gaze conveying a clear message: I’ll beat you someday.

And Tian Shiwei eyed Rousseau in return. This kid, when he joined, was supposed to be at the bottom, and now, after just half a month, he’d reached the middle ranks of the team. Though still far from Tian Shiwei’s peak, the pressure was real.

Because Rousseau was working far too hard. So hard that it was starting to weigh on Tian Shiwei.

But, still, beating me? It’s too soon.

Their eyes met, sparks flying in the air.

Bang!

The starting gun fired.

Both shot off the track. This time, Rousseau didn't use his signature technique, so Tian Shiwei was half a body ahead at the start—a demonstration of skill.

A hundred meters flashed by in a heartbeat.

The final results appeared on the electronic board.

Tian Shiwei: 11.1 seconds.
Rousseau: 11.4 seconds.

Rousseau had broken through to under 11.5 seconds.