So I heard Augustana’s women’s team was crazy fit and never seemed to get hurt, right? Figured they must be doing something different out in South Dakota. Decided to rip off their whole training vibe for a month straight. Here’s exactly how that dumpster fire went down:
Step 1: Stalking Their Schedule (Sort Of)
First off, good luck finding their real secret sauce online. Nada. Zilch. Just generic college athletic stuff. So I dragged myself over to watch them practice one chilly morning last fall. Freezing my you-know-what off near the courts at like 6 AM. Coach looked at me funny, but whatever.
Here’s what I crammed into my notebook:
- They moved NON-STOP. Never saw anyone just standing around.
- Drills? Short, nasty bursts. Hit-run-hit-run.
- Everyone was shouting, like, actually talking between swings.
- Water breaks were fast – chug and go.
- Stretching looked brutal. Not that gentle yoga crap.
Step 2: Building My Knockoff Version
Right. Couldn’t exactly copy their fancy facilities or coach. Slapped together my own ghetto version using the public courts and some garage sale cones.
Core of my crap routine:
- Warm-up that kicked my butt: Jumping jacks till dizzy, then lunges walking the whole baseline. Felt like dying after 5 minutes.
- Stupid “Continuous Points” drill: My buddy fed balls like a machine gun. I had to sprint, hit, get back to center – repeat for 15 minutes straight. Felt my lungs trying to escape my chest.
- Ladder Sprints (on cracked concrete): Dragged chalk marks for a “ladder”. High knees, side shuffles, butt kicks up and down that thing. Tripped. Twice.
- Their “Power” stretch torture: Found some articles hinting at dynamic stretching. Deep lunges with twists, holding each stretch while actively pushing for 30 seconds each side. My groin muscles wept.
Ran this circus 4 times a week. Every session ended with me face-down on the hard court, regretting all my life choices.
Step 3: What Actually Happened (Spoiler: PAIN)
First week? Absolute misery. My calves screamed climbing stairs. Shoulders felt like rusty hinges. Woke up every morning tasting yesterday’s lactic acid.
Second week? Okay, maybe stopped wanting to cry after the sprints. Started noticing I didn’t completely gas out hitting with friends after work. Less clumsy footwork too. Small win.
By week three? Something clicked. That “continuous points” drill? Didn’t see stars anymore. Felt stronger driving through shots after shuffling side-to-side. Didn’t need 5 minutes just to breathe between sets. Progress, people!
Week four? I ain’t joining the pro tour, but dang. Cardio felt solid. Stopped thinking about my feet every second on court. Legs felt like actual pillars, not wet noodles. Even my buddy mentioned I looked quicker chasing down his drop shots.
The Aftermath: Was It Worth the Agony?
Listen, copying D1 athletes with zero guidance is pure stupid. I know. My knees might never forgive me. Waking up pre-dawn sucked canal water.
BUT that constant moving thing? Pure gold. Made regular tennis feel slow-mo. Those dynamic stretches? Hurt so bad I might’ve cried in the shower once, but my mobility improved big time. The shouting/communicating focus? Surprisingly helped me stay locked in during long rallies.
The real secret wasn’t magic drills. It was the non-stop intensity and treating every single warm-up, drill, water break, and stretch like it mattered just as much as playing points. No downtime. Everything crammed together hard and fast, balls to the wall. That’s what builds the tank those girls play with. My knockoff shredded me, then rebuilt me tougher. Still hurting, honestly. But kinda proud too. Stupid? Yeah. Effective? Hell yes.
