So, everyone’s buzzing about numbers like Luther Burden’s 40 time. Impressive stuff, no doubt. Makes you wonder how they even move that fast. It got me thinking, you know, about speed and all that jazz.
I remember this one time, years ago, I got this bright idea. I wasn’t trying to be a pro athlete or anything, not even close. It was simpler. My buddies and I, we had this dumb, ongoing argument about who was the fastest among us. Just for bragging rights, you know, the important stuff. So, we decided to settle it. A good old-fashioned sprint. Not even 40 yards, probably more like 30, across the park.
My “Training” Regimen
I actually thought I could, like, train for it in a week. Real smart, I know. My big plan involved:
- Running around the block a few times. In my old, heavy sneakers.
- Doing some random jumps I saw on TV once. Looked athletic.
- Timing myself with my phone. Which, let me tell you, is not accurate when you’re also the one running and trying to hit the button.
I went out there the first day, full of beans. I sprinted. Or, well, I tried to. Felt like I was moving through mud. My lungs were on fire after like, ten seconds. It was bad. Really bad. I remember thinking, “How do these guys, like Burden, make it look so easy?” Because let me tell you, it felt impossible.
I kept at it for a few days, mostly because I’d told my friends I was “training.” Each day, I’d huff and puff. I’d try to stretch, but I probably just looked like I was confused. I think I pulled a muscle in my back just from trying to look like I knew what I was doing.
The “race day” came. We all lined up. It was a mess. Someone definitely false started. I ran as hard as I could. Did I win? Heck no. I think I came in second to last. My buddy Dave, who did absolutely nothing to prepare, just strolled over the line ahead of me, barely winded. That was a slice of humble pie.
But you know what? That whole stupid experience, it stuck with me. Whenever I see these athletes, and I hear about their 40 times, their vertical leaps, whatever it is, I don’t just see the number. I think back to me, gasping for air in the park, feeling like my legs were made of lead. It makes you really appreciate the work they put in. It’s not just talent. It’s grind. Hours and hours of it.
So yeah, Luther Burden’s 40 time? It’s more than just a number to me now. It’s a reminder of what real dedication looks like. And maybe a reminder to stick to things I’m actually good at. Definitely not sprinting.
