A Slow 60 Is an Excuse to Cut You

Some people might think I turned into a Division I prospect overnight.

Couldn't be further from the truth.

I went from a 7.0-7.1 sixty to a 6.7 in one summer. Not because I found some secret. Not because I paid $5k for a speed trainer. Because I finally started using my body the way it was supposed to move.

**The speed was already there. I just wasn't accessing it.**

Here's what everyone will tell you strength coaches say: conditioning work won't improve your speed. Sprint drills, first-step explosiveness, ten-yard bursts. That's the program. That's the ticket.

So it's wild that my 60 dropped four tenths while I was doing summer conditioning for my freshman year of college. Windsprints. 80-yard dashes every minute on the minute. 100-yard dashes every minute on the minute. Agility work. 60-yard dashes every minute on the minute.

I wasn't running slow miles at zone-two pace. I was running FAST, three times a week, all summer.

**Sprint drills are good for five yards. A 60 is a long sprint.**

You can pay a trainer to work your first step. That's fine for the first five yards. But a 60-yard dash is a different animal. You need something that carries you through the whole thing, not just the start.

Baseball decided the 60 is how they measure speed. So that's what I trained. Every session, before my conditioning work, my brother and I would test my 60. We got the timing down tight. By the end of the summer, I was clocking 6.8s. My worst runs were 6.91.

At the start of the summer, a 7.02 felt solid. By August, anything above seven pissed me off.

**You do all that work for two chances.**

Months of hot days, hot nights, running until my lungs burned. Then you show up on campus for 60 days, and you get two chances to run your 60. That's it. Whatever you clock, that's what the coaching staff docks you as for the year.

I showed up and ran a 6.64. Personal best. Coach noticed. I got labeled as a fast guy, and that label created opportunities that season for me I would not have had otherwise.

I could not have shown up and run a 7.0. That's not a label I wanted.

**Speed is a separator. A slow 60 is an excuse to cut you.**

If you're a 7.5 guy, you're giving coaches a reason to move on. Maybe a 7.2 works for a first baseman. Maybe. But I've watched corner outfielders and infielders get cut before they ever got a real look because of a slow 60. That was the excuse. That was all the coach needed to say you don't fit the program.

You don't want to hand anyone that excuse.

**Run. Just run.**

All that work I put in came down to one thing: I sprinted. A lot. I got better at sprinting by sprinting. No secret drill. No $5,000 program. Just consistent, fast running, three days a week, for an entire summer.

You should be doing something similar. Because when you show up on campus, or at a showcase, or in front of the coach who's deciding your future, you get one shot. Maybe two.

Make sure you're the fast guy.

That's the standard Athora Lab is built around. The work you put in before anyone is watching is the only thing that matters when everyone finally is.