Post by Aleksander Crius on Oct 10, 2011 14:38:21 GMT -5
Legs pumped. Lungs flexed. Sweat fell. Just another day of training.
This would be the last stretch for the day. His form was loose; somewhere between a jog and full speed. This was in fact his cooldown run, wherein he properly brought his muscles down from his much higher intensity sets. This last informal eight hundred meters was actually somewhat soothing on the mild burn his legs were experiencing. Aleksander could not help but instinctively look forward to the end of a well-done session, regardless of how accustomed to them he had grown. He had no choice but to put even more into his cardio workouts nowadays anyway. A student’s life was a busy one, and if he was to be diligent in his studies it meant he might not always find time for his twice-a-week routine. It was but a piece of having a healthy body.
He passed the bench that had marked his starting position and let up on the gas, gradually reducing his already relatively minor pace. Slowly he proceeded to wind down, taking his course off the track and back around to the bench, where his bag remained. Already his heartbeat was starting to cool off as well, though his lungs still grabbed at whatever came their way. It was a truly satisfying feeling. The sort that only an athlete could hope to understand. It was a mark of accomplishment, and of a labor fulfilled. Win or lose, victory or defeat, that sensation would always be present to inform you that you had given it your all, and Aleksander looked forward to it each and every time. This was something no amount of money or influence could grant him. It was what he dug his heels in for, and hoped to experience for much time to come. When he got back into the ring he hoped it would present itself alongside victory, as his own private trophy.
His pace now brought back to a walk, Aleksander snatched up the plastic bottle from the open sports bag. Popping the top, he tilted his head back and permitted a stream of water entry. The liquid was not cold - he kept it room temperature for practical purposes - but that did not make it any less refreshing on his gasping throat. He only took about two swallows-worth before re-sealing the container with a quick impact on his open palm. He tossed it somewhat carelessly back upon his bag, and then moved back to the track for a quick set of cooldown stretches. This started with him spreading his stance into a reversed v, and then bending his body across to make contact with his left foot. Today seemed to be a slow one, as nobody was around to cluster up the track. The main gym below had some people but he was effectively alone. It was quite relaxing, all things considered.
This would be the last stretch for the day. His form was loose; somewhere between a jog and full speed. This was in fact his cooldown run, wherein he properly brought his muscles down from his much higher intensity sets. This last informal eight hundred meters was actually somewhat soothing on the mild burn his legs were experiencing. Aleksander could not help but instinctively look forward to the end of a well-done session, regardless of how accustomed to them he had grown. He had no choice but to put even more into his cardio workouts nowadays anyway. A student’s life was a busy one, and if he was to be diligent in his studies it meant he might not always find time for his twice-a-week routine. It was but a piece of having a healthy body.
He passed the bench that had marked his starting position and let up on the gas, gradually reducing his already relatively minor pace. Slowly he proceeded to wind down, taking his course off the track and back around to the bench, where his bag remained. Already his heartbeat was starting to cool off as well, though his lungs still grabbed at whatever came their way. It was a truly satisfying feeling. The sort that only an athlete could hope to understand. It was a mark of accomplishment, and of a labor fulfilled. Win or lose, victory or defeat, that sensation would always be present to inform you that you had given it your all, and Aleksander looked forward to it each and every time. This was something no amount of money or influence could grant him. It was what he dug his heels in for, and hoped to experience for much time to come. When he got back into the ring he hoped it would present itself alongside victory, as his own private trophy.
His pace now brought back to a walk, Aleksander snatched up the plastic bottle from the open sports bag. Popping the top, he tilted his head back and permitted a stream of water entry. The liquid was not cold - he kept it room temperature for practical purposes - but that did not make it any less refreshing on his gasping throat. He only took about two swallows-worth before re-sealing the container with a quick impact on his open palm. He tossed it somewhat carelessly back upon his bag, and then moved back to the track for a quick set of cooldown stretches. This started with him spreading his stance into a reversed v, and then bending his body across to make contact with his left foot. Today seemed to be a slow one, as nobody was around to cluster up the track. The main gym below had some people but he was effectively alone. It was quite relaxing, all things considered.