Chapter 74: Pull-up competition
''That's great!''
Dad laughs and pats me on the shoulder.
''Maybe someday soon I'll have Jake Smith as my son-in-law.''
Jake and I laugh nervously, I even think we're both blushing. Neither of us is thinking that far ahead. I turn away from both of them and head for the treadmill. If I stay and chat, I'll never have time to work out and God knows my dad can chat forever if he really wants to. I stretch a bit, turn on the treadmill and jog at a brisk pace. Every once in a while, I'll watch Jake spar with his team. When he spars, my dad is in the ring with him. His eyes widen like a kid in a candy store as he talks to Jake. The sparring partner lies down on the ground at Jake's feet and Jake gives him his arm. I watch curiously as my father inaudibly tells Jake what to do. The training partner wraps his legs around Jake's arm and pulls hard. I grimace as I imagine the strain on my elbow. My dad crouches on the floor, talking, always talking. Jake nods and lifts the training partner off the ground before punching him again. The guy lets go of Jake's arm and Dad pats him on the back, happy with the result. Darryl and Jackson are setting up mats in the training room. I leave my treadmill. I want to see what they are doing. I only watch Jake box or train. I never see him work out. I look around the door and am surprised when I see only a few ab bars in the room.
''What, no tractor tires?''
I ask Jackson.
Jackson shakes his head and straightens up hard on the floor.
''Not this year.''
''Jake works in a bodyweight program.''
Darryl chimes in.
''Which means he doesn't lift excess weight, just his own.''
That's still a lot of weight.
''So what exactly does he do?''
''Every day, Jake does five sets of as many crunches as he can, repeating until he reaches muscle failure. He'll recover for 60 seconds and then begin his next set of pushups.'''
He points to the chin-up bar.
''Three days a week he does five sets of push-ups with max reps and some bodyweight squats. He also works on running, jumping and other exercises.''
''So no weights, no kettlebells, no machines? That's a bit simple for a wrestler, isn't it?''
I have no idea. I'm just telling you what I've seen on my dad's DVDs.
''Jake likes one more workout.... 'Rocky' and despite its simplicity; it's a remarkably balanced program. If he turns pro, then we might consider introducing machines.''
Darryl has it all figured out and I'm impressed.
''The push-ups aren't that hard, though.''
I state.
''I can do at least seven.''
Both Darryl and Jackson laugh as if I've said the funniest joke in the world. It's not a polite laugh, it's a hard head back and the teeth show a sort of chuckle. I'm quite proud of my ability to do seven push-ups. It used to be five.
''Seven?''
Darryl squeezes my biceps between his thumb and forefinger.
''That's three more than I figured you could do.''
I feign insult and cross my arms over my chest.
''And how many can you do?''
''A lot more than seven.''
"Prove it.
I say. Darryl doesn't look very strong. Sure he's lean and probably muscular under his shirt, but he doesn't look like he has that much strength behind him.
''Okay.''
He hands Jackson his clipboard and stopwatch.
''You and me. We'll take a bar each and the first one to stop loses.'''
"Done.
"Wait.
He holds out his hand.
''Let's make it interesting. If I win, you'll stop making Jake late for practice. If you win...''
''You'll wear a dress to the next fight.''
The words flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to think.
His dark lips smile at me.
"Deal.''
We shake hands and approach the bars. Jackson joins us, counting us in. As the word "go" leaves his lips, Darryl and I begin the push-ups. Almost immediately, my arms begin to burn and my muscles tremble. My lungs burn from lack of oxygen because I hold my breath every time I stand up. I can hear Darryl breathing rhythmically and I realize this is a no-brainer. He's going to beat me. I lower myself down and use all my strength to slowly stand up. Jackson is laughing, having the time of his life watching us. Next to me, Darryl is getting up and down quickly, like it's the easiest thing he's ever done. My arms are going to let go. I can feel it. I give up. I drop the bar from my hands and land with both feet on the floor. My muscles spasm under my skin and I lie on my back on the cold mats.
''I did eight.''
I groan with pride.
He holds out his hand and I take it. My arms feel like jelly. I feel like I'm going to detach from my body and it's going to float away at any second.
''Well done.''
He smiles.
"Now stop making my boy late.
I roll my eyes.
''You and I both know that no one can make Jake do anything he doesn't want to.''
Dad's laughter catches my attention as he and Jake enter the room.
''Darryl and Sandra went head to head in a pull-up contest.''
Jackson announces, pulling his green shirt over his head and exposing a lot more muscle than I assumed he had.
''Sandra lost, obviously.''
He laughs and I frown at him.
''I didn't really lose.''
I declare.
''Now I can do eight sit-ups instead of seven.''
Laughter erupts from everyone and I snort. I guess seven isn't brag-worthy after all.
''Anyway.''
Darryl publishes.
''I got a call from the MMAC earlier and they've announced their showdown with Red Donskov in seven days. You know the rules. No sex. No bad fats or sugars. The fight is in Denver, Colorado. Win that and you fight Donny Russell for the pro contract in Las Vegas a week later.''
''I can't wait to see you knock Donskov on his ass.''
Dad claps his hands and dread fills my stomach.
My dad can't go to Denver because I can't go to Denver to watch him. Jason will fire me if I ask for more time off. I've already asked for too much. Jackson, Dad and Darryl engage in a discussion about Red Donskov and his 'wrestler' technique.
I leave Jake to the side.