“Trail running. Obstacle courses.”
Leo blinked. “You don’t take credit cards?” arena products store alternative
Elara smiled. “Then you’ve come to the wrong place for gear. I make tools . What’s your sport?” “Trail running
She showed him the collapsible cones—made from recycled tire rubber and bicycle inner tubes, they folded flat and weighed nothing. The gloves weren’t seamless; they had visible, reinforced stitching along every stress point. “These will outlast your knees,” she said. “Then you’ve come to the wrong place for gear
The last pair of gloves he bought there had disintegrated after three washes. The “unbreakable” water bottle he’d paid a premium for had cracked the first time he dropped it on a rock. Arena Products had become the gray, soulless Walmart of endurance sports—cheap-looking neon colors, endless rows of the same five items, and a return policy that required a blood sample and a notary.