The morning sun poured through my bedroom window as I stood over my open suitcase, carefully packing for my first Formula 1 weekend. The thought still felt surreal, traveling to Qatar for the Gulf Grand Prix, my debut as a main driver in F2. Every item I packed carried a sense of purpose: my fireproof race suit, custom gloves, and my team-issued ART gear. I glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for my daily check-in with the system.
"Good morning, Henry!" the system chirped, its tone chipper as usual. "I hope you're ready to tackle today's tasks because you'll need every ounce of strength and stamina for this upcoming race weekend."
"What have you got for me today?" I asked, pulling my phone from the dresser.
"You'll be focusing on agility and endurance with a 45-minute core workout, followed by a light 20-minute run. Let's not forget: consistency builds champions!"
Rolling my shoulders, I finished zipping up my suitcase before changing into workout gear.
The gym was quiet, save for the steady hum of the treadmill and the sound of Marcus adjusting weights nearby. He nodded as I walked in, already knowing the routine.
"Big weekend ahead, huh?" Marcus said as he passed me a water bottle. "First race weekend always feels a bit heavier, doesn't it?"
"It does, but I feel ready," I replied, beginning my stretches. "This is what we've been working toward all these months. I just need to get through practice, qualifying, and then the sprint, and perform well."
Marcus nodded approvingly. "Let's make sure your body matches that mindset. Let's start with core work today."
The session was grueling but efficient, as always. Marcus pushed me to my limits, knowing exactly how far to go without risking overtraining. By the end of the workout, I felt sharper, more focused, a state of readiness I had come to trust.
Back at the house, I sat down with Olivia for a quick debrief before heading to the airport. She was already buried in her tablet, managing the logistics for the upcoming weekend.
"Alright, Henry," she began without looking up. "Here's the plan. Marcus and I won't be flying out to Qatar with you, but everything's been sorted. You'll travel with Luca, Matteo, and Damon on the team jet. Practice starts early Friday morning, so use tonight and tomorrow to settle in and acclimate."
"Got it. Anything else I need to know?" I asked.
She finally looked up, her expression serious but calm. "Just stay focused, Henry. This is your chance to show everyone why ART chose you. Your deal with Lamborghini has already put a spotlight on you, so now it's time to back it up on the track."
"I'll deliver," I said confidently.
After a quick shower, I dressed in a casual yet sharp outfit, throwing on a pair of sunglasses as I grabbed my bags. Marcus was already waiting by the Gallardo.
"Ready?" he asked, opening the trunk for my luggage.
"Let's hit the road," I replied, sliding into the passenger seat.
The drive to the private airport was smooth and quiet. Marcus handled the Gallardo like a pro, clearly enjoying the feel of the car as much as I did.
"You're going to crush it, Henry," he said as we pulled into the hangar.
"Thanks, Marcus. Keep the Gallardo safe for me," I joked as I grabbed my bags and stepped out.
At the ART jet, Luca Moretti was already leaning against the staircase, sunglasses on and a smirk on his face.
"Cutting it close, Calder," he teased.
"Fashionably late," I retorted, shaking his hand before we boarded. Matteo Ricci and Damon Steele were already seated, deep in conversation.
The jet took off promptly at 2 PM, and the journey was filled with light banter between the four of us. Luca and I shared a few laughs, while Matteo and Damon exchanged jabs about who would be quicker in practice.
By the time we landed in Qatar, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the tarmac. Four black team cars awaited us, their drivers standing at attention. Camille greeted us briefly before directing us to our respective vehicles. Luca and I shared one car, Matteo and Damon another, and the team staff filled the remaining two.
The drive to the hotel was serene, the roads smooth and flanked by the desert on either side. Camille gave us the night off to adjust to the time difference, and I used the opportunity to relax, call home, and mentally prepare for the days ahead.
The practice sessions were a critical opportunity to fine-tune the car. Laurent and I worked closely, dissecting every lap to find areas for improvement. The Al Khalifa International Circuit was a technical challenge, with its high-speed straights and tricky corner sequences.
"Henry, you're losing time in Sector 2," Laurent said over the radio during one of my runs. "You're braking too early into Turn 7. Try carrying more speed through the apex."
"Copy that," I replied, adjusting my approach.
Back in the garage, Laurent poured over the data with the engineers. "Your lines are clean, but we need to optimize the setup for more front-end grip," he said, scribbling notes on a clipboard.
"Agreed. The car feels a bit understeery in the slower corners," I added, leaning over the telemetry screen.
After several runs and countless adjustments, the car began to feel dialed in. The team's effort was paying off, and by the end of the final practice session, I was consistently within two-tenths of Luca's fastest laps.
"Solid work today, Henry," Laurent said as we wrapped up. "We're in a good spot for qualifying tomorrow."
That evening, I reviewed the day's footage with Laurent, noting areas where I could shave off a few more tenths. My focus was razor-sharp, every detail mattered at this level.
"Remember, Henry," Laurent said as we finished. "Qualifying is about precision. Nail your sectors, and you'll be in a strong position for the sprint."
I nodded, determination burning in my chest. The road to my first F2 race weekend was almost complete, and I was ready to prove myself.