Landon walked ahead, his shoulders squared in his navy sports-coat. He strode these halls as if he owned not just them, but the world. “This is the secured side of the building. It takes up about sixty-percent of the square footage, and has a few specialized wings.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a long set of windows. Lining one long, window-filled wall were a dozen treadmills, elliptical machines, and stair-steppers. The room was perfectly positioned to take in the view of the snow-capped Mt. Rainier in the distance.
“That’s our programmable atmosphere room. It has a few options. Beyond temperature we can also adjust oxygen levels to mirror different elevations. For the last few weeks some of the Sounders players have been coming in. They’re playing a match in Denver this weekend. We can set the oxygen to mirror the mile-high city. It allows them to prepare their body for thinner oxygen. It helps diminish he edge the home team has. Soccer players run an average of six miles during a game. Doing so with thinner oxygen is a challenge, even for an elite player.”
I scanned the room. “What are the stair steppers for then?”
“Climbers.”
“Oh.”
“Last week a team of six reached the Summit of Mt. Rainier. They trained in that room.”
“Wow.” I grinned, glancing over at Landon. “And they stared at the mountain while training. That’s kind of cool.”
“Cool doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said, turning away from the window.
I followed him further down the hall, resisting the urge to ask questions about every room we passed. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said, content to keep me waiting.
If there was one thing I knew about Landon, it was that he was used to having the upper hand.
We hit another set of double doors, and this time Landon pulled a key card out of his pocket, swiping it at the readers. It chirped, and then the doors swung open.
He stopped at the first door on the left, where a placard read lab.
I raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Landon, but he simply swiped his card again and pushed the door open.
What lay beyond took my breath away.
The lab was enormous, bigger than the ones I’d used as a student. Monitors lined one wall, and long, low tables, stretched across the middle of the room. Refrigerated units with glass doors spanned another wall. The rest of the room was filled with gleaming white cabinetry, each unit labeled with something else—beakers, microscopes, saline…
Eight or nine people in white lab coats were clustered around one table, talking and tapping notes into a tablet computer.
“This…” my voice trailed off.
“Is more than a glorified gym,” he said, flashing me a smug grin. “What we do here is nothing short of science.”
I nodded, finally getting it. What he’d built was so much more than I could’ve imagined. So much more than I could even wrap my head around.
“What are they working on?” I asked, nodding toward the… scientists? Were they doctors?
Landon glanced at a board hung on the wall next to the door where we’d entered. “Today, specialized sports drinks.”
I wrinkled my nose. Sports drinks? Was this where Landon planned to grab some Gatorade? “Um, what?”
“We’re creating sports drinks specific to individual athletes. Every person sweats differently. Their body processes food and drinks and workouts differently. We create a specific recipe to replace the exact vitamins, minerals, and electrolytes that athlete expends during the length of a game. It shortens recovery times. “
I stared at the people in the room. All of this for a drink?
“Gatorade’s been doing it for years. Ever see a world cup game? When an athlete goes down, and the trainers rush out with a crate of Gatorade… that’s not the stuff off the shelf. It’s a mix created specifically for that player. Sometimes they play in extreme heat. It allows them to hydrate in a way not possible with water. It limits cramping.”
“You do that here?”
“Every week. There are other labs, too. We run blood samples to search for any vitamin or enzyme deficiencies. We run independent tests for the NFL and the MLS to check for PEDs.”
“PEDs?”
“Performance Enhancing Drugs. Sometimes it’s best the league isn’t the only one running the tests. We’re the official lab for second opinions.”
“Wow.”
“This is what I meant,” he said, gesturing around us, an unmistakable note of pride in his voice. “When I said I want you to work for me. There’s a place here for you. It’s science, not the mall.”
But all of this… it was too much to hope for. “I don’t want to be your pity hire.”
“You’re not. It’s hard to fill these jobs all at once, and we’re still short a few staffers. We created the internship program to boost our hiring. Besides, it comes with strings.”
“Strings?”