Ring, ring, ring...
The sound of the alarm shattered the stillness of the early morning, and Lance was instantly awake.
His subconscious mind knew that today marked the beginning of the offseason training. Even though his head was groggy and he was caught in the fog of half-sleep, his instincts kicked in right away.
He fumbled in the dark for his phone and answered the call.
Before Lance could say a word, the voice on the other end had already seized the initiative.
"Hey, rookie! What are you doing? Don't tell me you're still in bed. I've been training for fifteen minutes already. If you're any slower, the sun will be up, shining right on your lazy butt."
Click.
Before Lance could respond, the line went dead.
His brain, still half asleep, couldn't process it for a moment. He stared at the caller ID:
JJ Watt.
He glanced at the time: 4:30 AM.
Lance: ???
Wait, wasn't the start time supposed to be five o'clock sharp? His alarm hadn't even gone off yet. What was Watt trying to do?
Still dazed and confused, Lance took a deep breath, trying to snap himself out of it. But he didn't rush—he walked straight into the bathroom for a quick hot shower.
After a restless night of poor sleep, his body felt sticky with sweat, and his head was clouded. He needed to clear his mind and wake up properly to enter the day in his best condition; otherwise, the entire day's training would suffer.
Sharpen the axe before chopping the wood.
After his quick shower, Lance didn't bother with the car. He threw on a cap and started jogging toward the training ground.
The villa that Donald had rented for him was less than two kilometers from the training facility—less than a five-minute drive or a ten-minute run.
Since offseason training had officially begun, he figured he might as well get into training mode right away.
He did interval running: sprinting at full speed for a while, then slowing to a jog, and then bursting into a sprint again. He kept switching up the pace to push his cardiovascular system. Before he knew it, he was there.
At the training ground, Watt was already dripping with sweat—
Watt was doing lunges while holding a barbell, lunging step by step from one end zone to the other. From a distance, it looked like the barbell weighed at least 30 kilograms, if not more.
It was a simple exercise, but Watt executed it with absolute seriousness. His whole body seemed to be steaming from the sweat, and off to the side were Watt's personal trainer and Lance's new personal trainer, Tony Villani.
Tony Villani had been recommended to Lance by Harold Nash, who had trained Lance last offseason. Nash, after wrapping up his work with Lance, had landed a new job as a specialist coach for the Detroit Lions.
When Lance needed a dedicated personal trainer this year, Nash recommended Villani. Villani wasn't affiliated with any specific team; he operated his own training business and was highly regarded throughout the league.
Nash recommended him because Villani specialized in strength, speed, and explosiveness. Antonio Brown trained with Villani every offseason.
Villani's training company was based in Florida, so it was convenient for Lance to work with him this offseason.
Although this was Watt's private training camp, the training plans were custom-tailored. Part of it was foundational, meant for everyone, and part of it was personalized according to each athlete's specific needs.
The overall training plan was led by Watt's personal trainer, with each player's personal trainer assisting, discussing, and collaborating as needed.
"Hey, Lance, how are you feeling overall?" Villani came up to him, shaking his hand and giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I mean your sleep quality, your physical state. How was the water temperature? Too warm? Too cold?"
Villani's attention to detail showed his professionalism. Adjustments were made based on how Lance felt that day—
After all, nobody wanted to get injured during offseason training.
Lance was still getting used to it, but he appreciated the thoroughness and cooperated. "I didn't sleep well. My body's a little sluggish."
Villani nodded. "Alright, let's start with some cardio, see how your body reacts."
As they spoke, Watt finished his first set of lunges. His forehead continued to bead with sweat, but he looked elated.
"Hey, our little sleepyhead finally decided to join us! What happened? Had a wild night yesterday?"
A light-hearted jab—no harm intended.
Lance looked around and then raised an eyebrow. "JJ, your prank isn't very professional. Shouldn't you wait until everyone's here before making jokes? Right now, it feels like the end of the world, all empty and barren."
It was only then that Lance realized he'd left his housemate Mahomes behind. Half-asleep earlier, he hadn't even remembered that Mahomes was staying in the same villa. He'd just run off on his own.
Watt picked up on Lance's sarcasm instantly and laughed heartily.
"The start time is five; I just like to get in thirty minutes early."
"I've heard all the stories—Kansas City's No. 23 is a training maniac. TJ even said, 'A madman meeting a madman. Who knows who would win?' So I figured we should start half an hour earlier."
"Unless…"
Watt paused dramatically.
"Unless you didn't sleep well and want to go back for a little nap? I mean, you can wait for the others to arrive. I wouldn't mind."
For once, Watt's expression was rich with emotion—part anticipation, part mischievous delight.
Honestly, Lance hadn't slept well, and his energy levels weren't great. But with Watt being so eager and taunting, how could he back down?
Even before he answered, Lance was already stretching his wrists and ankles. "So, does a certain injury-prone patient need some special accommodations?"
One line was all it took.
Watt raised his chin slightly, eyes twinkling with understanding. He didn't bother with more banter and jumped right in. "You ran here? Well, I guess that counts as a warm-up. How about starting with some cardio?"
A challenge—thrown directly at him.
Lance scanned Watt up and down. "JJ, I have a training trick. You want to try it? Before starting each workout, whether it's strength or core, we run two kilometers. How about it?"
Two kilometers?
No doubt, that would be a tough test for their cardiovascular systems. But at the same time, switching up the types of training could improve overall quality.
Watt's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Even for cardio training?"
Lance nodded. "Of course."
Watt clapped his hands together. "Alright, then. Are we starting with two kilometers now?"
Without another word, Lance and Watt exchanged glances. There was no need for a break. They both stepped onto the field and began running along the sidelines, keeping their strides steady and strong.
Meanwhile, Mahomes finally jogged up to the training ground, a bit confused—
Lance's room was empty.
Could it be that Lance went ahead to the training ground before him?
Starting training at five was already crazy enough. Had Lance really shown up even earlier?
From a distance, Mahomes could see a line of people standing by the field. He glanced at his watch—it was still ten minutes before five.
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Powerstones?
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