Page 84 of Warrior's Walk
The excitement builds, and I can feel the energy of the crowd as we wait to see who will finish the mile first.
West slaps the stop button when he hits the mile mark. “Booyah, bitches,” he yells.
“7.4,” Riggs barks.
Grunting, Nash takes the lead out, increasing his pace. He’s sweating already, and I can only imagine how hard he’s pushing himself to finish what should be a simple mile. When he finally stops the machine, he collapses, bracing his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.
“8.2,” Riggs calls.
But there’s no more taunting, no in-your-face remarks. West slaps Nash on the back. “You kicked that treadmill’s ass!”
“Let’s go, warriors. On to the bitch bars. I mean the parallel bars.” Riggs smirks as he pretends to correct himself.
The parallel bars run about ten feet and are about three feet off the ground, or just above hip length. “God, you remember how much I hated these?” West asks. “We had some bad days on these bars,” he recalls.
“I remember,” Riggs says grimly. “Let’s see how well you can do now. The challenge is for you to get from start to finish, but I want you to put your weight on your hands and walk the bars using only your upper body strength. Do not let your feet touch the ground.”
“Piece of fucking cake,” Nash says. He’s broader across the chest than West, and he seems to have more muscle mass.
West knows he’s been beat before he even begins. “Yeah, well, don’t get too cocky. I gotta let you win something so it’s an even competition.” Nash laughs at him. I laugh at him. These guys are a mess, just like my buddies back home.
Riggs blows his whistle hard, and they start off evenly, until about the halfway mark when West slows considerably as he begins to struggle. Nash makes it across the bars first. West’s feet touch down halfway, and he has to catch his breath as he works the kinks out of his biceps before continuing.
“Come on West, you can do it,” I yell. By the time he finishes the full ten feet, his brand-new shirt has sweat stains under the armpits.
Riggs is waiting for him, glowing with pride. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. You’ve come so far.” He looks like a proud papa.
My heart fills to bursting. God, I love this man. I love the way he loves others, the way he supports them and encourages them, how he’s fully invested in their lives and their successes. And the way he won’t let them take their failures to heart.
Brandt moves into Riggs’s spot, wrapping West in his arms. He claps him on the back. “So proud of you, babe. You’ve got this. You’ve got to close your eyes and visualize the finish line, and kicking Nash’s ass with your big-booted foot.”
“Fuck the boot, I’m giving him the blade,” West jokes.
Riggs checks his clipboard and resets his stopwatch. “All right guys, take a water break before the last leg of the competition.” I hand out bottles of water and the guys chug them in seconds. “For the last test of endurance, you have to climb the rope and ring the bell at the top.”
“Fuck,” West groans. Nash chuckles.
Riggs told me he tailors the Warrior’s Walk to the individual limitations of the competitors. Sometimes, it’s all a patient can do to simply walk on their own two feet from point A to point B.
“When you ring that bell, you’re telling everyone, including and most importantly yourselves, that you are a warrior. That you are strong and relentless, and that in the face of opposition, you never gave up.”
Unexpectedly, my eyes water, and I swipe them dry before anyone can see. No matter what else I have going on, I’m going to make my therapy the most important thing in my life. I want to see Riggs look at me with that same pride, to say to everyone that I’m strong and relentless and that I never gave up. I want to feel like a warrior, even though I’ll never step foot on a battlefield again.
“Who’s going first?” Riggs has his stopwatch in hand, ready to begin.
“Go ahead, Nash,” West suggests. “Show me what I’m up against.”
Nash smirks. He presses a kiss on his cat’s nose. “Wish me luck, Valor.” Taking hold of the rope with both hands, he looks up, his gaze settling on the brass bell at the top. “I’m coming for you,” he tells it. Nash begins to pull himself up, using his feet, thighs, and hands to ascend. About halfway up, he slows and grunts with each inch gained. “I don’t remember it being this difficult in gym class,” he pants, sounding winded.
“You weren’t old back then,” Jax snickers.
It takes ten more minutes for Nash to reach the top. He smacks the bell hard and loosens his grip, sliding back down in a rush. Everyone, including me, claps for him, but nobody is clapping louder than Brewer.
“Shit, I was about to let go,” he admits, struggling to breathe. “Your turn,” he grins at West.
West stands under the rope, looking up at it skeptically. “You going to catch me if I fall?” he asks Brandt.
“Always,” Brandt vows.