Cassian stretched himself out on the couch, and the house was oddly quiet. The tick of the clock in the living room was its only steady dance of movement; its beat was calming in a way that the hubbub of practice somehow seemed not to be. They'd gotten two full days off before the district competition, and Cassian intended to make the most of it.
For the first time in weeks, no one urged him to run like the devil was chasing him, and he did not need to push his body to the limit. He felt surreal. The adrenaline and intensity of the past week had drawn his muscles heavy, but in the quiet of his home, he could finally breathe easy. His body was grateful for the respite, but his mind, always racing, was still restive.
He sat there for a moment staring at the ceiling, then got up and went outside. His garden was always waiting there—a little, well-tended area that sat behind the house, planted full of the various things he had taken care of for months. Some were plain: small herbs and flowers, but others were more exotic, so colorful and unusual in form that it was almost unnatural for them to be here.
Gardening became a quiet refuge for Cassian. When he could not run or when his mind refused to stop racing through memories, tending to his plants offered him the rare feeling of peace, which lately had become quite scarce. To each of his plants, very long, thoughtful attention was required, and Cassian badly needed to keep up with that speed he normally found himself in.
He kneeled beside the flowerbed, scrutinizing the soil and pulling up the weeds that had started to shoot forth. His fingers sifted through the dirt, and he felt himself unwind, his shoulders easing as he concentrated on the simple, repetitive tasks.
Mark passed by the back window when he glanced in at him. "Are the plants doing okay?" he called.
"Yeah, they're good," Cassian replied with a little nod. "Just making sure they're ready for the winter."
Mark beamed at him and gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared back inside to leave Cassian to his thoughts.
Hours passed this way, hours with Cassian between the plants moving here, pruning, watering, and readjusting their positions for best sunlight. From time to time he would stop, do a few stretches to keep his muscles loose, or drop into a fast set of push-ups. Even while resting, he's not idle. His stretching exercises were a dynamic and static movement, such as those that loosen his muscles without forcing the body too much. Further, he performed some rounds of calisthenics, squats, lunges, and exercises meant for the core group, just enough to keep active and not overexerted.
By the time the sun was set below in the sky, throwing a warm orange glow across the backyard, Cassian was calm. His parents moved about inside the house, and he turned to peer that way, took a deep breath, and said to himself, "Two days of this would be enough. He needed his body recovered but above all, his mind before the race.
The second day repeated the same rhythm. In the morning he was stretching and working through some light calisthenics, then retreating into his garden. It had become an anchor now for him with all the going quiet into home life. He wasn't nervous—at least not yet—but there seemed an unavoidable tingle inside him.
In fact, he knew this was the place where he would be tested not only for his speed but also for his control, to remain calm under pressure. He was never at this level of competition before, and though his mind's edge ran wildly to thoughts of victory, he squelched them. Now he didn't need distractions.
That evening, after dinner, Cassian sat with his parents at the table; the conversation was light and easy. Mark and Sarah knew better than to bring up the race—Cassian appreciated that. They spoke of his plants instead, how quickly the flowers had bloomed, and whether or not they should expand the garden next spring. It was a comfortable, easy night, a welcome distraction from the excitement building around tomorrow.
The day of competition finally dawned; Cassian stirred to the first light of dawn creeping into his window. He lay motionless for a moment, then began to get out of bed, feeling the serenity of the past two days become ingrained in him. His body felt rested, his mind sharp. Gone was the soreness of last week; in its place, a quiet strength.
As he dressed into the team uniform, he cast his gaze out of the window toward the garden, quietly standing by plants in cool morning air. He smiled, a strange sense of thanks for the calm brought over the last few days.
Today was the day. The district competition was awaiting him.