I step out of the house into the early morning, tasting the crisp freshness of the autumn air and sensing the prospect of untold opportunity. Night is reluctant to surrender its shroud to the October sun, and I find my way to the vehicle using more perception than sight.
Once aboard, I begin the crucial pre-workout routine that prepares me for the coming challenges and helps ensure my success. While the ride to the field is relatively short and I might enjoy the sight of the rising sun revealing the as yet bare and bold Rockies, I know I must pay attention to my training. Stretching each leg in turn and splaying each paw, coaxing the sleep from the finely conditioned muscles and flexing the ligaments and tendons, I encourage my body to anticipate the impending rigors.
We come to a stop in the parking lot and my trainers adorn themselves with the various paraphernalia required for my session. Strapping on coaching bags full of nutritional supplements (and a few plastic bags for other unforeseen necessities), grabbing the launching device and loading the tennis ball, they make their way to the hatch to release me.
The door swings up and every fiber of my being reacts in perfect consort, channelling my complete conscious and unconscious focus towards the singular goal. I spring from the compartment and seemingly glide above the gravel and grass towards the ball as it achieves its zenith and arcs downward back toward the earth. As it lands, I am on it, not even stopping as I cradle it in my mouth, swing around and head back to the trainers awaiting my triumphant arrival.
And now it has begun. With each new launch of the ball, my body tenses and prepares for the impending explosion of speed and power. When they holler my release word, I am a ground level rocket ship tearing through the landscape with unerring precision. I am alert and alive; every sense honed to its keenest edge. With perfect accuracy, I capture the ball and soar back to base, aware of my coat shining in the newly minted day as I run towards the exclamations of praise (and dare I suggest - amazement?) from my trainers.
The process is repeated over and over - all of us aware that we are attempting to improve upon perfection and will accept no less. I don’t disappoint. As even I begin to believe that I have achieved the absolute apex of the sport, I somehow manage to shave off just a few more milliseconds on the next run, find just a bit more hustle...
Finally, I am spent. While not having expended the raw physical energy that I have, my trainers are exhausted as well - the emotion of the session almost too great for them. We rally back to the vehicle and I am rewarded with a good long drink and a couple of specially designed nutritional food packets created specifically for high performance athletes. The engine starts and we head home where I will spend some grateful hours recovering and replaying today’s session with positive visualization and keen evaluation for the next day’s work (although to the untrained this looks a lot like snoozing).
FETCH - to some a simple mechanical act of retrieving a thrown object. To me, so very much more....
Maisie
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