Page 76 of Unmasking Love
But, if I've learned anything in my career, it's that sticking to my routine is key. That means I need to go for my bike ride, prepare my meals, and focus on stopping the puck.
With a kiss on her forehead, I gently get out of bed and change into the workout clothes I packed before going to the game last night. I found a bike path a few weeks ago near Harper’s house and with the way the sun is peeking through the blinds I know it will be a good route for today.
Usually I ride somewhere between 25 and 30 miles on game day, that’s just over an hour and a half for me. It gets my blood flowing and gives my adrenaline an outlet.
When I step out of the bathroom a few minutes later Harper is awake and leaning against a pile of pillows.
"Morning, Sugar," I say as I cross over and lean in for a kiss. She smiles up at me and I honestly could look at her all day, every day, and never tire of it.
"Where are you off to this early?" She asks with a yawn.
"I'm going to take a ride and then come back to get ready for the game."
"Anything I can do to help?" She asks as she starts to climb out of bed.
"Nope." I gently push her back down to the pillow. "I need you to stay right where you are."
"Aiden," she scolds playfully. "C'mon I can make breakfast or something."
"No, it's fine. I'll be back in like an hour, and we can make breakfast together then."
On my way out the door I place an order for her ridiculous coffee drink, and then head out for my morning ride.
The hills open up as I reach mile nine and the strain of the increased effort feels good as I pedal. Hitting my cadence turns off my brain and all I focus on is the push and pull of my legs against the gears and hitting the famed “runner’s high” without the impact to my joints.
My mind enters a trance like state and my mental prep begins.
Breath in.
Focus.
Follow the puck.
Breathe out.
Focus.
Stop the puck.
Being a goalie means my body takes a different toll than a typical player. I have to be careful with my spine and my neck since I spend a good portion of each game bent over and craning for the puck.
In practice yesterday, I played behind Crosby and Dunc and we huddled up about game strategy against Denver. I know how they like to attack from the left and made sure the boys knew to be on the lookout. If we can clear the puck to the right we'll have a better chance of breaking out of the zone and into our own, converting play to offense.
My mind focuses on my ride stats and I watch the miles tick away as I continue.
When I get back to Harper’s, I open the apartment door and find her dumping ingredients into a blender.
"I thought I told you not to make me breakfast," I tell her as I slide up behind her and give her a hug. She leans into me and then wrinkles her nose.
"Ew, you're sweaty."
"You've never complained before," I tease with a kiss on her neck.
"You've never been dripping with sweat before."
"Wait until you smell me after playing a full game."
"I don't think I want to experience that just yet, thank you!" She chirps and adds a few scoops of protein powder to the mix. She leans over and checks her phone. I see it's pulled up to a recipe.
