The Velocity Drill

A dense neon-yellow tennis ball stood wedged against the hallway baseboard, daring me to move it. I did not walk past. I dropped low into a sprinter's crouch, locked both fists into the coarse felt, and shoved with everything I had. The ball broke loose, hurtling down the slick boards. I sprinted right behind it, boots hammering the wood in rapid, thunderous bursts. Stride for stride, I closed the distance. Just before it reached the front door rug, I threw my weight forward, dropped into a baseball slide, and jammed my right boot sole hard against its curve, arresting it dead in its tracks. Pure agility. Precision under fire.