No Limits: The Powerful True Story of Leah Goldstein: World Kickboxing Champion, Israeli Undercover Police and Cycling Champion by Leah Goldstein & Lori Moger

Author:Leah Goldstein & Lori Moger [Goldstein, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Influence Publishing Inc
Published: 2015-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

MISSOURI

“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.”

Elbert Hubbard

“Leah, we have to shave your head.”

“Not gonna happen!”

Janessa and I bantered back and forth as Ed drove us to our nightly pit stop motel. They had put a strip of duct tape on the pavement, marking the spot where I’d stopped. After my few hours of sleep, they would place my bike back on that line, ensuring I hadn’t missed even one inch of the route.

“Leah, we have an idea to use kinesiology tape on your neck, but I think it will work better if we can attach it farther up on your head.”

Connie had brought along some of the tape, a stretchy, sticky athletic tape used to support injured joints. She’d used it on herself and on some of the athletes she’d coached, with fairly good success. Janessa thought it was a great idea and Lori, a kinesiologist, thought it would work even better with a half-shaved head.

“Think of something else,” I muttered. I was cranky and nauseous from the pain. Ed walked me into my room, holding my arm like I was a hundred years old. I could no longer balance myself off the bike, kind of like sea legs. I had bike legs.

I took a quick shower, keeping one hand on the wall at all times, and pulled on a clean t-shirt and shorts. The best Egyptian sheets couldn’t have felt better. I held onto the doorframe as I shuffled back into the room. Janessa, Connie, and Lori stood side by side with scissors, razors, and tape in their hands.

“We gotta do it, Leah,” Janessa stated apologetically.

Outnumbered and too exhausted to argue, I slowly lowered myself facedown onto the bed.

“Whatever,” I mumbled into the flat pillow.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, while they cut off my hair from the top of my ears down. Then they treated me to a barber-inspired shave, complete with warm towel. They sprayed Tough Skin, an adhesive, on my neck and back, and pressed the strips of tape from just behind my ears down to my mid-back.

“Are you finished?” I whined. The position killed my neck, and gratefully I rolled onto my side. I could feel the support from the tape instantly, and was glad they had talked me into it. It was only hair. As I drifted off to sleep, I could hear them critiquing their handiwork.

“Do you think it’s enough?”

“Yeah. It’s going to hurt like hell taking it off.”

“It looks like four pink octopi fighting over her hair.” Laughter.

“What’s left of it.” More laughter. “And who in the hell says ‘octopi’?”

I worked with the regular “blue” police for only a few weeks, when I discovered that the Belush also operated out of our station. The Belush, an undercover unit, dealt with drugs, terrorism, murder, and domestic assault, all the headline-stealing crimes. Of course, I wanted to progress in my career, but was shocked when after only a few months I was called into the director’s office.

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