Always Up: Quiet Miles
Another volleyball tournament.
This time in Orlando.
Last minute, I decided to take Brightline instead of driving.
I’m tired of highways. Tired of traffic. Tired of arriving already drained.
The train cost more. I booked it anyway.
Some costs feel different.
And honestly? Worth it.
Brightline was smooth. Quiet. Clean.
Brought food. Closed my eyes. Let the motion do the work.
A pod all to ourselves. Legs stretched out, no one snoring beside us.
Public transportation never felt this private.
Just dad and daughter.
I tried to talk. She put her headphones on.
I looked out the window.
Presence doesn’t always mean conversation.
We stayed at the Hyatt Regency Orlando.
Surprised we even got a room. Big tournaments usually book the place out.
Walking distance to the courts in the West Concourse.
Convenience matters when energy is low.
Picked her up from school early so she could settle in.
Got to the hotel around 5 PM.
Easy check-in. No chaos. No airport lines.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Then the Uber hit.
Sixty dollars from Brightline to the hotel.
Surge pricing undefeated.
Hyatt Regency was solid.
Not luxury. Not disappointing.
4.3 stars feels right.
Most meals came from convention center vendors.
Quick bites between games. Nothing memorable.
Tried the sports bar one night. Descend, I think.
Food was fine.
But a sports bar without the NBA package?
That’s odd.
First USAV tournament.
Different level.
These kids weren’t playing youth volleyball.
They were playing like scholarships were on the line.
Like D1 futures were already written.
Speed. Power. Confidence.
And I’m sitting there wishing my daughter got more chances to contribute.
More touches. More minutes. More moments.
Hard to grow from the bench.
The team struggled.
Energy felt off.
Losses stacked quietly.
Elevator rides after matches were the quietest.
No phones. No jokes. Just reflection.
She’s at a crossroads.
Four tournaments.
Four bad feelings.
So we talked.
About adversity.
About fighting through it.
About not letting someone else shrink your love for something you once chose freely.
Games ran late. Everything ran long.
I had to change our Brightline tickets.
Expensive.
Phone support wasn’t much help.
Station staff tried, but systems move slower than people.
The original train we booked?
Delayed an hour.
The new train?
More money.
Some trips charge you twice.
It was an expensive weekend.
Financially and emotionally.
The team didn’t perform.
The experience wasn’t smooth.
Nothing really clicked.
This wasn’t one of my favorite trips.
But I got time with my daughter.
Real time. Not background time.
And fatherhood isn’t measured in highlight reels.
It’s measured in presence.
In patience.
In showing up when things feel heavy.
Not every mile is scenic.
Not every trip is a win.
Some journeys expose the cracks.
In systems. In teams. In expectations.
You don’t chase perfect moments.
You commit to present ones.
