OLP 3

“Do you have your phone right now?”

“Yes.”

“Play yesterday’s training video.”

To be a short track skater, if nothing else, you had to have a good mobile phone. This was because the coach in charge of video analysis filmed our training sessions every day and shared them. I played the video I had downloaded on my smartphone. As soon as it started, I was pushed by Seonho and fell. I spun around and went all the way to the corner of the rink. Sunbae, who had been silently watching my miserable fall, spoke.

“You need to do more ab training.”

“Yes…”

To watch the small screen together, sunbae’s body leaned even closer to mine. Our cheeks touched. I held my breath. My hand must have trembled without me realizing it, because sunbae grabbed my hand holding the phone and held it steady on my lap.

I almost dropped the phone.

“You’re skinny. Don’t try to force yourself to hold on.”

“…”

“Like this.”

His neat fingers touched my mobile phone as if it were his own. He frowned in concentration as he could not find the video he wanted. Our knees touched more. I kept holding my breath until I reached my limit and gasped like a fish pulled out of water. Our knees touched, and so did our thighs. Our two bodies, with their rising temperatures, were pressed too closely together. What sunbae showed me was a video of a Chinese athlete, who had been famous in the past, from the 16/17 season World Cup finals.

“Something else you can refer to is.”

His long fingers brought up another video. This one started with an interview. A blond, close to brunette, with a cute face. Fast English. It was a Canadian athlete currently active, who would most likely compete in this Olympics if nothing unexpected happened. Sunbae, as if he had already seen the video dozens of times, skillfully skipped to the scene he wanted. His closely trimmed nail tapped the face on the screen.

“His technique is really good. Even if his plays are dirty. His body type is the same as yours, so it’ll be helpful. Watch it and compare it to your race from yesterday. See how he gets out of the same situation. It can be a bit dangerous at times. Here…”

Sunbae’s hand touched my waist. He straightened my back and corrected my posture. His explanation continued. It was a level of coaching that would be great even if he became a coach right now.

It was definitely an athlete I knew and a video I had seen, but I had never thought of it this way. Sunbae was like someone who had watched every single one of my race videos hundreds of times. This advice was not just for today. In our room, we would watch videos of competing athletes together, and he would give me advice on race management and strategy. During free training time, we would each do our own training, but he would always check on my weak points at least once. Every time, I felt like I was getting a 1-on-1 tutoring session from a top-notch teacher. I felt like sunbae could get a student who did not even know the first letter of the alphabet into Seoul National University in just a year.

If it were me, I would have abandoned a hopeless hoobae and just focused on my personal training.

Was it because of the relay? Since sunbae does not acknowledge anything but a gold medal. No matter how well sunbae and the other athletes do, if I fall, winning would be difficult.

Sunbae, who expressed his determination to win a medal in every single event, was cool. I respected him, and I liked him. The question I threw was impulsive.

“Aren’t you ever anxious, sunbae? About maybe losing, or making a mistake… or not winning a gold medal. About things like that.”

“…”

“For me, just being in the Olympics is something to be grateful for, but it’s different for you, sunbae. You’re the best skater in the world… so if you happen to miss first place. Aren’t you worried?”

It was impulsive, but it was also something I had always wanted to ask at least once. At my question, sunbae, who had only been looking down at the screen, raised his eyes. Sunbae spoke.

“Do you know which team wakes up the earliest in Jincheon?”

“Which one is it…?”

“It’s us. Short track speed skating.”

“…”

“And the person who wakes up the earliest on our team is me.”

“…”

“The person who stays at the training rink until the very end is also me.”

“…”

“I’m the best, I’m number one. But there’s no one who practices longer than me. Everyone else wakes up later than me and leaves the training rink earlier. Athletes from other countries probably aren’t any different. That’s why I have no choice but to keep being number one.”

It was not a boast. It was a calm statement of fact.

Even among the national athletes gathered in Jincheon, our team wakes up the earliest, and among them, sunbae wakes up the earliest.

Our day started at 5:20 in the morning. When I, a heavy sleeper, would barely wake up around 5, sunbae was already washed up and stretching. There were many times I woke up to the water dripping from sunbae’s wet hair as he looked down at me. With a sunbae like that next to me, all I wondered about was things like, ‘Did sunbae really say I was pretty?’

How pathetic must I have looked in sunbae’s eyes. My face flushed.

Really, get a grip… Even if I cannot be a cherished hoobae, at the very least, I should not be a pathetic hoobae.

I clenched my fists and stood up. I did not even feel like I wanted to die anymore. I was just so embarrassed. It was the first time I realized that shame could be such a powerful motivator.

I put on my helmet even before going out onto the rink.

“Hyung, I’ll work really, really hard.”

“…? Okay.”

And a week later, a shameful incident occurred that made me feel like it would be better to just bite my tongue and die.

*

Short track national athletes run about 22 kilometers a day. 200 laps around the rink, or more. It was a distance similar to going in a straight line from Mokdong SBS, past the National Museum of Korea, to Olympic Park. All the athletes ran that much every day, and I too had run that much before dinner. But you cannot catch up to others by just doing as much as they do. To beat others, you have to do more than them. One extra lap more than the others, that one lap will make me a winner.

I mumbled words that sounded like they came from an autobiography as I skated around and around the chilly rink. Thinking that by now, I might have passed Olympic Park and reached Macheon Station.

Time passed with nothing but training and meals. As my training volume increased, so did sunbae’s advice. My daily goal was to ingrain what I learned today into my body within the day. I do not know how many pairs of socks I threw away in a week. The number of my socks placed on the drying rack next to sunbae’s gradually decreased. The skin on my feet, from repeated harsh training, turned red and then soon hardened into a yellowish callus. I thought I already had more than enough calluses on the tops of my feet to pick off, but I was mistaken.

The desire to die and give up only lasts in the early and middle stages; once you pass a certain point, even those thoughts disappear. I am a robot… a skating robot… it’s not pain, it’s a good thing… I encouraged myself and pushed my legs. I could feel my thigh muscles swelling up. Salty sweat dripped from my chin.

‘That’s why I have no choice but to keep being number one.’ 

Sunbae’s words, which had appeared in my dream yesterday because I had mulled them over so much, echoed in my ears. ‘A disappointing silver medal, let alone not even being in medal contention…’ The head coach’s sigh, which automatically came out whenever he saw me, also came to mind.

“Hey, your butt is going to explode if you keep that up…”

I ignored Seonho’s words as he followed behind me. It was a little past 10 at night, and only I, Seonho, and sunbae were at the ice rink.

After skating at full speed, it was not easy to stop. A warm hand snatched my arm as I slid for a long while even after passing the finish line. Sssk— My body was dragged along with the chilling sound of ice being scraped. The racing suit, clinging tightly to my entire body, was enough to give the feeling of being pressed against the person holding my arm. In the blink of an eye, my helmet was taken off.

“Hyung!”

Seonho’s voice rang out cheerfully on the quiet silver rink. Sunbae, who had been watching me with his arms crossed since earlier, had taken off my helmet and tucked it under his arm. Sunbae was also in a racing suit.

Seonho ran over and chattered.

“Hyung, I think Lee Yeojun is crazy. He won’t stop. I thought he was doping.”

“You want to do more?”

Sunbae asked, cutting off Seonho. He had a displeased expression. Did I do something wrong? I glanced at him furtively and nodded slightly.

Sunbae said.

“I don’t think you can do more.”

“…”

“You can’t do more.”

“That’s right. You can’t do more.”

Seonho agreed enthusiastically.

My panting breath kept hitting sunbae’s neck. It hit his neck and came back to me. To think that the evaluation from sunbae, who had been watching only me since earlier, was merely ‘You can’t do it.’ I timidly tried to argue.

“I can do it.”

“Your legs have given out. Are you going to crawl and skate?”

“That’s not it…”

“You’ll get injured like that. What’s the rush?”

“I have to finish what I learned today, today.”

“You can do it tomorrow. If not tomorrow, there’s the day after.”

“…Tomorrow, there will be new things to learn.”

My protesting voice trailed off. The atmosphere suddenly turned chilly. It was hard to understand. Had I not been doing well for the past week? Why am I suddenly being scolded out of the blue. But sunbae had an expression that said, ‘I’ve been watching what you’ve been doing for the past week.’ The clash of our gazes was fierce. Seonho, who had approached cautiously, took my helmet from sunbae. With his hands free, sunbae crossed his arms. I clasped my hands like someone being scolded and lowered my head. After looking down at me disapprovingly for a long while, sunbae suddenly reached out his hand.

His bare hand, without a glove, pushed aside my clasped hands and went between my legs. His palm fumbled for the silver circle on the inner thigh of the racing suit. The circular pad, designed to reduce friction, was attached right next to the groin, where friction most often occurs during a race, where skin rubs and chafes against skin. That was also where sunbae was touching now.

Sunbae’s knuckles brushed against a sensitive spot. His palm cupped my inner thigh, and the side of his hand pressed against my testicles. It was too far in. Sunbae must have felt me flinch the moment he touched me. Yet, his touch continued, and I, caught between the legs without warning, stood awkwardly, unable to move a muscle. The round silver pad was meant to help the athletes’ performance, not to be used as some kind of target to stick a hand in and rub. Sunbae kneaded and rubbed my flesh as if it were some kind of dough, and I, like someone being molested, literally whimpered.

“It’s warm here. You know that?”

“Hyung… please, your hand…”

“Even for me, I can’t win a relay medal alone without you. I’ll make sure you win a medal no matter what it takes, so let’s call it a day for today.”

“…”

“You’re not going to answer?”

“Yes…”

By now, sunbae’s hand was practically gripping my genitals. I was already bent halfway over. I was not in the right mind to add any comments. Unable to do anything, as I tried to cover the space between my legs with my hands, sunbae lifted me up. In an instant, I was slung over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. Seonho, who was watching, whistled. Amidst the mix of jeers and bewilderment, only sunbae was composed. The hand that had been touching between my legs now took the skates off my feet.

“Song Seonho, the bags.”

Sunbae, holding two backpacks in one hand, started walking toward the outside of the rink. He walked straight down the hallway without even stopping by the locker room. He came all the way to Hwarang Hall like that.

“Hyung, I smell like sweat…”

“Everyone here smells.”

“Can’t you put me down?”

“Nope.”

When we finally arrived at the dorm and sunbae put my body down on the bed, I was as red as a beet. I picked up a pillow and covered the space between my legs. Sunbae placed the bags he had brought on the bed. He was indifferent even after seeing my messed-up face. The back of his hard hand brushed against the small of my back.

“Your back is arching.”

“…”

“It’s not good to have space between your body and the racing suit. Tell the coach and ask him to get it fixed.”

“…”

“I’ll go get an ice pack.”

He said that, glanced at the clock once, and left. The door closed. A few minutes of silence followed.

I carefully removed the pillow that had been covering my groin.