**Chapter 5: First Real Training**
Tuesday came with something different in the air.
It wasn't Alex's first time at the track in Eefde—not anymore. He'd already been training there for two weeks now, three times per week. But today felt like a turning point.
The kart Victor had let him use—number **11**, red chassis, and stiff steering—was finally starting to feel like his. He knew how it reacted under braking. He could feel when the rear tires would break loose. It didn't scare him anymore.
Victor greeted him at the paddock with a nod. "Let's see how far you've come since last week."
Alex simply nodded back. Helmet in hand, gloves strapped tight.
His mom gave him a thumbs-up from the benches, where she sat quietly with her coffee. No more nerves. She trusted this now.
---
The track buzzed with the sound of other young drivers already circling. Some were older. Some were faster. Alex didn't care.
He rolled out of the paddock in his kart, easing into the flow of the track. The tires still felt cold—he'd learned to give them a lap or two before pushing.
Victor's voice rang through the radio in his helmet: "Take your time. Build the heat. Then find your rhythm."
Alex started slow, easing through corners like Turn 3 and Turn 7, where he'd spun once last week. But the grip came quicker than expected today.
By lap four, he was already chasing sector times. He tried new lines through the tighter sections and practiced keeping his arms relaxed, like Victor had told him.
He clipped the apex of Turn 5 just right. The kart responded like it had been waiting for it.
---
After ten laps, Victor called him in.
"You're calm. That's good. But I want more push into Turn 6. You're still lifting halfway."
"I'm not sure it'll hold," Alex said, eyes narrowed.
Victor crouched beside the kart. "Trust what you've learned. Let the kart speak."
Alex nodded. He sipped some water, took a breath, and nodded again before rolling back onto the track.
---
Back out on track, he tried it.
Lap 1 — cautious.
Lap 2 — better.
Lap 3 — full throttle through Turn 6.
The rear twitched, but the kart held its line. He grinned under the helmet.
Then something unexpected: up ahead, number 21—a boy he'd seen at previous trainings—was struggling with consistency.
Alex didn't dive in.
He waited. Observed.
Victor's voice: "You don't need to pass him. Just read him."
And Alex did. The other driver braked late but exited corners sloppy. His rear slid on the exit of Turn 8.
On the next lap, Alex got a better exit. He passed on the straight—clean, quiet, confident.
Victor whistled to himself. "Well done."
---
When Alex came back into the pits, he was sweating, but his eyes were wide with energy.
Victor met him with a bottle of water. "That pass—clean and calculated. You waited. That's rare."
"He was overdriving," Alex replied, tone calm.
"You noticed."
Victor gave him a short nod of respect. "You're reading the race now—not just driving in it."
---
During the second training block of the afternoon, Victor added a new drill: short sprints between Turn 2 and Turn 5. The goal was precision, not speed. Alex practiced braking markers, then gear transitions. At one point, he locked up slightly and veered off line.
Victor waved him over.
"What went wrong?" he asked.
"I braked too late. And I turned too soon."
Victor nodded. "You can fix late braking. But you caught the mistake. That's what matters."
They tried again. This time smoother.
---
In a break between sessions, Alex sat on a worn bench next to his kart. His gloves rested on his lap. He watched the other boys, louder and older. Confident. Some cocky.
He didn't feel like them.
And that was okay.
He wasn't chasing their energy. He was chasing the lap.
His mom walked over and handed him a juice box. "Still having fun?"
Alex nodded. "Yeah."
She sat beside him for a moment.
"You know we're proud of you, right?"
He nodded again. "Even if I don't win?"
"Especially then."
---
That evening at dinner, his dad leaned in.
"So? Best session yet?"
Alex nodded. "It finally felt right. The kart, the lines, the grip. I could see where to go. Not just react."
His mom looked proud, but didn't say much. She didn't have to.
Victor had already sent them a message: *Your son's learning fast. He's ahead of where I expected.*
They looked at each other over the table.
"Should we slow it down?" his mom asked quietly.
"I don't know," his dad replied. "He seems... happy. Focused."
"We'll keep watching. But for now—this seems right."
---
Later that evening, Alex sat at the kitchen table, looking over a printed track map Victor had given him. He marked spots where he'd hesitated and circled the turns he'd nailed.
"I want to get under fifty seconds next time," he whispered to himself.
His dad walked by and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just remember to rest, too."
"I will," Alex said. But his eyes didn't leave the map.
---
The next session was already on the calendar. But this one mattered. It was the first time Alex felt like a driver—not just a kid learning.
He didn't just drive the kart anymore.
He was starting to understand it.
And slowly—lap by lap—he was starting to understand himself.