Lion (10 page)

I went back inside and saw that Phoenix was still on the phone, so I went to find Jake. He was on the foldout couch in the guest bedroom, playing a video game on his tablet.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Jake didn’t reply. He was probably too busy with his game. I grabbed my tablet and flopped onto the guest bed.

I logged on to the Internet and decided to do a little surfing. I typed
DRAGON BONE
into my search engine, and to my surprise, I got a hit. I tilted my tablet so that Jake couldn’t see it, and I hit the link. It was an online news article from a San Francisco Chinatown community newspaper.

I swallowed hard and hit my browser’s
BACK
button. Phoenix came into the bedroom.

“Ryan,” he said, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” I said. “I have some something to tell you, too. Let’s go outside. I love that back porch.”

“Don’t bother,” Jake said without looking up from his game. “You might as well just talk here. I know all about
dragon bone. I can surf the Internet, too, you know.
Dry chain lube?
Give me a break.”

Phoenix ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, man. What’s on the Internet?”

Jake put his tablet down. “Show him, Ryan. I’m guessing that’s what you were just looking at. Your face went all pale as you read it.”

I looked at Phoenix. “I think we need to have a team meeting.”

“That’s what I came to tell you,” Phoenix said. “Grandfather and Uncle Tí think we should get Jake and Peter up to speed as quickly as possible. There is some crazy stuff going down in Chinatown.”

Peter had ordered a couple of pizzas after he and Hú Dié had finished in the garage, and it took the meal plus an entire quart of ice cream to tell him and Jake everything about dragon bone.

Peter remained quiet the whole time, and it was difficult for me to figure out what he was thinking. At first he looked skeptical, but after I took a dose of dragon bone and showed him how my cramped abs immediately loosened, it was clear that he believed me.

He seemed disappointed in me, too, and I couldn’t really blame him. Thankfully, he offered to help. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d turned his back on me.

It was one in the morning by the time we’d finished, and we did rock-paper-scissors to see who was sleeping where. I won and picked the twin bed in the guest room. Phoenix
and Jake had brought sleeping bags and decided to share the pullout couch that was also in the guest room. Hú Dié got the regular couch in the room Peter used as an office.

I brushed my teeth and flopped into bed. I thought I’d have a hard time falling asleep, but as soon as Jake turned out the light, I crashed hard.

I was wakened
by the sound of a whirring mixer. I rolled over and looked at the clock, shocked to see that it was eleven a.m. Phoenix and Jake were already up and gone.

My arms and legs were heavy, and my head was cloudy. I pulled on some sweats and dragged myself to the kitchen to find Phoenix and Jake sitting at the kitchen table with Peter. Hú Dié was beside the stove, mixing some type of batter.

“Good morning,” Peter said. “How do you feel?”

“Ugh,” I said. “Horrible. I don’t have any energy.”

“Sorry, bro,” Jake said. “Do you think you can ride today?”

“Yeah, but don’t expect me to pull you like I did the other day. I just don’t have it in me.”

Peter frowned. “It’s the dragon bone, isn’t it? Or lack thereof.”

I nodded.

“I’m trying to get a handle on how much to work you today,” Peter said.

“Have you changed your plan?” I asked.

“No, only refined it. Hú Dié is being kind enough to cook us some organic protein pancakes. After breakfast, Phoenix and Jake are going to do the dishes while Hú Dié puts some finishing touches on my bike and you help me hitch my old bike rack to my van. Then we’ll load up the bikes and hit the road. I want to take a close look at each of your forms, as well as teach you guys a drafting drill or two.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll feel better once I start sweating.”

“About that,” Peter said. “I noticed yesterday that your sweat smelled a little … off.”

“It’s the dragon bone. Hú Dié says I stink.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say stink,” Peter said. “
Ripe
is a better word.”

Hú Dié giggled.

Jake laughed. “Yeah, like a bad apple! I’ll second that.”

“Third,” Phoenix said, “but I’m used to it. My grandfather has the same smell.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said. “Remember that when you’re drafting off me today. I might even forget to put on deodorant, too, just for you, Jake.”

“Gross, bro!”

It was well past noon by the time we arrived at our surprise training destination, which turned out to be Point Lobos State Reserve. It was only a few miles from Peter’s house
and I’d been there before, but I’d never considered it as a place to train. It was perfect for road bikes.

We passed through the entrance gate and drove along a smooth two-lane road that was free of potholes. It wound through tall, shadowy eucalyptus trees before crossing a prairie-like meadow and finally reaching the ocean. The road didn’t stop at the water, though. It made a sharp ninety-degree turn to the left and continued along the water’s edge. We followed it a short distance, and Peter turned off into a small dirt parking lot that faced the park’s most famous attraction—the tidal pools. Rocks the size of houses were strewn along the shoreline.

Peter parked the van, and Jake said, “Check it!” He pointed to a wooden post that read
BICYCLES
.

Peter laughed. “That sign always cracks me up. I’ve never seen a single bicycle here. There are miles of trails, but most people hike them on foot or poke around here in the tidal pools. A lot of people scuba dive here, as well, though mostly in a cove down the road. This entire park is a marine sanctuary. It’s considered by many to be the crown jewel of California’s park system.”

“I can see why,” Hú Dié said. “It is so beautiful. I might have a difficult time keeping my eyes on the road.”

“You better focus once you’re on the bike,” Peter said, his tone serious. It seemed we were done joking around for now.

After unloading, Peter strapped himself into his handcycle and sent us off to take a quick look at the tidal pools while he set up our helmet cameras. We didn’t have to go more than a stone’s throw.

The pools were quite close to the road, and they varied from the size of a basketball to the size of a basketball court. Most were formed by gaps between the massive rocks. A couple were pretty deep—I’d jumped into one on a visit as a kid and it was over my head; my mom had to help me climb out of it. Colorful creatures flitted among innumerable underwater crevasses, either swimming or scurrying across the slime-covered face of the scarred rocks.

“Wonderful,” Hú Dié said after several minutes of slouching over three different pools. “I could stare into these all day.”

“Me too,” Phoenix said.

“Not me,” Jake said, straightening. “This is boring, and that slime smells worse than Ryan’s sweat. I’m going to see if Peter needs help.” He walked off.

I shook my head. “I think I’ll go back, too. I’ve seen these pools before.”

“Fine,” Phoenix said. “Let’s help, too, Hú Dié. Maybe we can explore here some other time.”

We got the cameras mounted and positioned; then we climbed onto our bikes and warmed up with some easy spinning on the flat coastal road. We didn’t draft off of one another, and we weren’t supposed to concern ourselves with form, technique, or positioning. Peter rode alongside us, his repaired handcycle working flawlessly and looking even better than it originally had. Hú Dié had done an amazing job.

It was a warm day, and after a few minutes I felt the first trickle of sweat run down my face. My body began to loosen up and I felt pretty good, though I guessed I only had about 50 percent of my normal energy level. We spun
for another five minutes before Peter pulled us over into a different parking lot and had us get off of our bikes.

“Time to stretch!” he announced.

“Oh, man!” Jake whined. “I
hate
stretching! Why didn’t we just stretch first and get it over with?”

“It’s better to spin, then stretch,” Peter said. “You’ll get more out of it that way. Do any of you have a good stretching routine?”

“I have about a million,” Phoenix said, “but they are all for kung fu. Is that okay?”

Peter shook his head. “I’d rather you guys stay away from kung fu. I remember Ryan’s acupuncture story.”

“I have one,” Hú Dié said. “I teach it to people in our bike shop.”

“Perfect,” Peter said. “Lead the way, Hú Dié. I’ll observe.”

Hú Dié got down to business, starting us with some difficult stretches.

And then it got worse.

I’d done a ton of weight lifting, but I’d never been concerned about flexibility. Jake struggled even more than I did. He was generally pretty lazy. If he wasn’t riding his bike, he was slumped on a couch somewhere playing video games. He couldn’t even touch his toes.

People must be a lot more flexible in China because Phoenix and Hú Dié both excelled at stretching. Hú Dié looked like an Olympic gymnast, while Phoenix looked like a noodle. To say that Peter was impressed with those two would be an understatement. He asked Phoenix and Hú Dié to help me and Jake with our stretching, and they agreed, pushing and pulling us into painful contortions.

Once Hú Dié finished abusing us, we remounted our bikes. Peter had us ride back and forth past him, both solo and as a group, so that he could observe and record our form and posture in detail. Next, we had to pedal with only one leg to give him a sense of how smooth our pedal stroke was or, in Jake’s case, wasn’t. I’d never noticed before, but Jake had a really sloppy cadence. Pedaling with one leg really showed whether or not you were efficient and if you used the entire range of motion to propel the bike. Jake pedaled like a preschooler, mashing down on his pedals with each revolution and never pulling up.

When Peter had seen enough, he sent us up the park road in a loose peloton, telling us to ride single file and at least five feet apart, which was too far to draft. He rode alongside us, shouting tips about drafting before we actually did it. It was like a moving classroom.

Then he had us tighten up, each front tire less than a foot away from the next bicycle and off to one side. I was in the lead, with Hú Dié behind me, then Phoenix, and finally Jake. The others hooted their approval as they began to draft off me and each other in sequence. It was a good feeling.

We reached a turnaround at the end of the road and snaked around two parked cars after a quick warning shout from me. The cars were empty, but I steered us well away from them, just in case. We breezed through the turnaround and headed back in the other direction, still in our tight peloton.

“You guys are doing great!” Peter shouted. “Let’s practice falling off. Do you remember the signal, Ryan?”

“Yeah!” I shouted back. We’d just talked about it on the drive over here.

“Whenever you’re ready, go for it!”

We were hugging the right side of the road, so I glanced over my left shoulder. The coast was clear. I stuck my left elbow out as a visual signal and shouted, “Falling off!”

“Falling off!” Hú Dié shouted back, acknowledging my verbal signal.

I accelerated to make sure I’d clear Hú Dié’s front tire; then I veered to the left and tapped my brakes slightly so that the entire group could pass on my right. I pulled in behind Jake and locked onto his wheel, feeling my bike suddenly sucked forward. It was my first time drafting, and I hooted, too. It was neat.

We took turns falling off until Peter had plenty of footage.

“One more drill, and we’ll call it a day!” Peter shouted to us. “I’ll pretend I’m a car. You guys react. Do you remember the verbal signals we talked about?”

All four of us shouted, “Yes!”

“Do it!” Peter shouted, and slowed until he was behind us.

“Car!” Phoenix shouted from the back of the peloton. “Single up!”

“Single up!” we all shouted back, and we spread out in a single-file line to minimize the risk of possibly crashing into one another and to leave more space for the approaching vehicle to pass.