Waiting for the hammer to fall

Still smarting from the embarrassing end to the 5k race, I head to the high school track tonight to work on my fitness. Trundling around, dutifully putting in my laps when I notice a coach working with a group of kids in the bleachers. He’s roaring abuse as he runs them up and down the steps so hard that a few of the weaker ones are stopping to throw up every couple of minutes. A sight to lift the spirits on a summer’s evening. Coaching at its very finest.

He moves them to the track and up close they look like they might be 11 and 12 year olds. They do some fast laps before they head to the steep grassy hill that runs alongside the field. Now, he has them sprinting up and down that and more of them are regurgitating their dinners as they go. This guy really knows his stuff. I decide to keep running laps just so I can watch him at work. You never know where you can pick up knowledge.

His last exercise involves two kids racing off while carrying full-size sledgehammers. No, really. The moment I see one of the boys almost take his own foot off when he drops the thing, I realize this must be a lacrosse team. Who else would be working out with industrial machinery and risking limb loss? I should have known when I saw the players were all wearing those tie-dye stoner shorts, sporting floppy fringes and not complaining there was no ball involved in the practice.

I’m not a fan of the sport but tonight I develop new respect for the training regimen. I head to my car enthused, wondering if the hardware store is still open. I need to introduce sledgehammers and other heavyweight tools into my practices. I’m determined not to be one of those soccer coaches who rely on superior skills over brute strength.