I couldn’t help but smile as I walked down to the lake. The soft grass brushed against my ankles with every step, and the evening air carried that calm scent of water and pine. The surface of the lake reflected the sky like glass, rippling only where Mike was cutting through the water in powerful, determined strokes. He swam back and forth with a focus that made it seem like his life depended on it, his arms slicing through the surface with almost mechanical precision.
It was honestly kind of impressive. I’d seen Mike skate before—obviously—but this was different. This was intense. There was a rhythm to his movement, a kind of discipline and grace that surprised me, even though I shouldn’t have been surprised at all. He was an athlete, after all. But something about seeing him out here, a
