Settling Into Everyday Life

Two weeks had already passed since I'd been transferred to the developmental squad. In that time, I'd more or less settled into life with the Wonju Flyers.

— Beep.

"Good morning."

I greeted the seniors who'd arrived ahead of me and stepped onto a treadmill without a second thought. I used to run mainly the day after a start, but morning cardio had become a daily routine.

— Huff, huff.

I finished a short run with my breath only slightly elevated. Five minutes at about seventy percent intensity was enough to wake every cell in my body and get the blood moving.

If there was one thing I'd learned since coming here, it was that the old idea of "run until you can't breathe" was completely wrong. Overdoing it only piled on muscle fatigue and slowed recovery.

A short, sharp sprint to get the blood circulating was far more effective. Longer runs were better saved for the day after a hard session, or for post-start recovery — thirty minutes at the lowest intensity, flushing out the waste that had built up in the muscles the night before.

I'd once run without thinking, figuring more was always better. Watching even something that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠small get managed this systematically here was genuinely new to me.

"Oh, hyung! You're out early today."

Right — and there was one player I'd gotten close with.

O Daesik. I ran every morning; he hit the weights every morning. We kept crossing paths, and being on the developmental squad together made us friends fast.

"Yeah. Figured I'd try those squats you keep talking about, so I came in a little early."

"Oh, nice. Pitchers need to lift these days too, you know."

At the mention of squats, Daesik's face lit up. For two weeks straight, he'd been on me every chance he got — "At least do some squats, hyung." Coach Kim Taehwan kept saying the same thing, that even if it was a pain, squats were worth it. So I'd finally decided to give them a try. Cutting back on running had left my lower body feeling a little soft, too; squats seemed like a solid way to shore that up.

"Come on. While we're on the subject, I'll show you right now."

I followed Daesik over to the rack. I'd only ever watched him and the other seniors do this. Actually being the one under the bar made me a little nervous — and, if I was honest, a little excited.

"L-like this?"

I settled an empty barbell across my shoulders and carefully set my stance. Daesik let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Hyung, what are you doing? You're not putting plates on?"

"Uh… yeah? YouTube said if it's your first time, just use the bar so you don't get hurt."

"Come on, hyung. That's for regular people."

He snorted like he couldn't believe it and walked over to the plate stack. He pulled two thick-looking plates and slid one onto each side of the bar.

"You're an athlete. You've got to start at least at this."

"Hey, wait. How much is that?"

"Eighty kilos."

…Is this actually okay?

I'd never done this before. I had no real sense of how heavy eighty kilos even was.

"…This is my first time."

"Hyung, even a regular person can hit eighty after a solid month. You'll be fine. Just get set."

Half convinced, I settled the bar on my shoulders. Whether it was the cold steel or first-time nerves, a faint tremor ran through me.

"Back straight, eyes forward. Knees don't go past your toes!"

I drew a breath and sank down slowly. Thankfully, just like Daesik had said, the weight wasn't intimidating at all. If anything, the burn in my thighs felt a little light.

So that's why he laughed like I was being ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ridiculous.

I felt a little embarrassed for fretting so much.

"Okay, come up! Breathe out! That's it, that's it!"

Feeling the steady pull through my thighs, I rose slowly.

"Hoo."

I finished my first squat ever and racked the bar. The weight gone from my shoulders, my body felt suddenly light.

"How was it? Not bad, right?"

"Yeah. Better than I expected."

I shook out my legs lightly.

"Eighty kilos had me a little spooked, but once I did it, it was nothing."

"Right? Told you — eighty's really nothing."

Daesik grinned.

"This is good. Running never gave me this kind of burn."

"Of course not. Running's endurance. This is strength."

"So how many of these do I do a day?"

The odd tension in my legs wasn't bad. No — it felt good. A kind of engagement I'd never gotten from running.

"Hmm… honestly, hyung, this isn't that hard for you, is it?"

"Yeah. Manageable."

"Then about ten reps, five sets? If it still feels light, you can do more."

He tapped a plate with a dull clang.

"You're better at this than I thought, so I don't really need to babysit. I'm heading out, okay? I've got my own work to do."

"Yeah. Thanks."

I finished the five sets of ten the way Daesik had laid out, then sat for a breather and opened the Status Window. All the training must have been paying off — there were some solid changes.

The best ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠news was the cutter. For a while it hadn't even shown up on the Status Window — too close to the slider to register as its own pitch. About a week ago, the movement difference had gotten clear enough that it finally appeared.

According to Coach Kim Taehwan, separating a cutter from a slider this fast was rare. He figured my natural feel for the ball and the shape of my arm had made it click unusually cleanly.

A few days ago, after clearing an emergency quest, Movement had also jumped from 40 to 45. Movement was the stat that pushed more balls in play into weak contact — and for a guy who left too many pitches over the heart of the plate and gave up a lot of balls in play, that was excellent news. Ever since I'd come to the developmental squad, the System had started handing out emergency quests like that on top of the main ones.

Velocity, though… it had gone up. By exactly one kilometer. One kilometer was still one kilometer, but thinking about the second journey made my chest feel tight.

"There's no way I hit a hundred and fifty…"

The analytics staff said that once a few mechanical tweaks settled in, I could maybe pick up three or four more kilometers from here. That still only put me at a hundred forty-five. With this arm, a hundred fifty really did look out of reach.

I knew that, so I'd tried every shortcut I could think of. I'd made a slingshot out of the rubber tubing we used for band work and fired balls with it. I'd ordered a javelin launcher online and thrown with that. I'd tried everything. None of it worked.

I caught my breath and stood in front of the steel rack again. Cutting back on running meant I had to train my lower body some other way — and that way was squats.

I'd almost never done weighted work before. This was a program the organization had recommended: instead of trying to build cardio endurance through running at the same time, focus on pure lower-body strength that would actually help a pitcher.

Haa… Next, should I put my uniform on a pitching machine and have that throw for me?

Honestly, I doubted it would work. But nothing to lose. I'd have to try it sometime.

Feeling the burn in my thighs, I turned the second journey over and over in my head, hunting for a way to clear it. Nothing that felt like this is it came to mind.

— Beep.

After squats and a shower, I headed for the cafeteria.

The menu was set up so players could put something light in their stomachs before morning work — bananas, nuts, chicken ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breast, salad, toast. Not a lot of food, but for a pre-training meal it was perfect.

I loaded a plate with a banana, salad, and chicken breast and took an empty seat in the corner.

"Yeah. In the morning, clean food like this beats anything greasy."

I'd been tempted by the toast a few times — it smelled great, and it tasted fine — but for my stomach first thing, it sat a little heavy. The combination I'd settled on was balanced protein and fiber: banana, salad, chicken breast.

I shoveled salad into my mouth with one hand and checked the rest of the day's schedule on my phone with the other.

"Huh. Never seen this one before."

In two weeks here I'd run through so many drills I'd started to think there was nothing left that was new. The idea of another unfamiliar session still made my chest lift a little with anticipation.