Rhea
The next few days settled into something that almost looked like a routine. Most mornings started with training sessions, bike inspections, race reviews, and me trying to get a bunch of stubborn men to understand that talent alone wasn't enough to win races.
Some listened. Some pretended to listen.
And some like Travis looked like they'd rather launch themselves into a wall than admit I knew what I was talking about.
"Again," I called out.
One of the riders groaned.
"Don't complain to me," I said. "Complain to the stopwatch."
A few curses followed. I smiled.
Progress.
By now I had most of them working on reaction drills and controlled cornering exercises. The goal wasn't just speed. It was consistency.
The ability to stay calm under pressure. Something I was beginning to rea
