A PPC Lab Story – performance ideas based on actual cases
Dr. Chad Peters
Christopher Was the Kid Every Coach Trusted
Christopher wasn’t loud. He didn’t demand attention.
He showed up the same way every day. First in line. Last one done. If there was a drill, he attacked it. If there was conditioning, he pushed harder. If someone said “one more,” Christopher quietly did two.
He never cut corners. He never mailed it in.
Coaches loved him because he made their job easier. You didn’t have to check on Christopher. You already knew he was working.
Of Course Effort Would Solve It
So when Christopher decided he wanted to get faster, no one questioned it.
Of course he would. Of course effort would solve it. That had always been the formula.
He added more work. More sprints. More conditioning. More volume. He chased speed the same way he chased strength, through effort, repetition, and grit.
At first, everything about it felt right. The soreness felt earned. The grind felt productive. Being tired meant he was doing it correctly.
The Strange Part Wasn’t Slowing Down
Christopher wasn’t getting slower.
He was getting stuck.
The times didn’t drop. The first step didn’t feel sharper. Late in practice, instead of feeling explosive, he felt heavy.
That didn’t make sense to him.
He was trying harder than ever.
What Coaches Usually Say Next
From the outside, Christopher still looked like the model athlete.
Push through it.
You’ll break through.
You’re just tired.
So Christopher pushed harder.
The Class That Changed the Question
Around the same time, his kinesiology class started covering the nervous system. The teacher was one of the rare ones. Stayed current. Asked questions. Didn’t teach from a dusty binder.
They weren’t talking about muscles that day.
They were talking about control.
That was when Christopher realized, without anyone pointing it out, that he was standing at a fork.
The Fork Most Athletes Never See
One path said speed was something you demanded. If speed wasn’t there, you added work. You added fatigue. You added effort until the body complied.
The other path suggested something that felt almost backwards.
Speed wasn’t earned through force.
It was granted.
And the system granting it wasn’t muscular.
It was neurological.
Why Tre Looked Different
The idea bothered Christopher, especially when he thought about his buddy Tre.
Same age. Same class. Same sport.
But Tre trained differently.
Short runs. True speed. Then long rest. Not jogging around. Not pacing. Actual rest.
Tre didn’t look weaker. He didn’t look lazy.
Late in practice, Tre looked fresh.
Christopher worked harder than Tre.
So why did Tre look faster?
Speed Isn’t a Muscle Decision
Muscles don’t decide how fast you move.
The nervous system does.
Before force ever shows up, the brain has already decided how much speed it is willing to allow. That decision isn’t emotional. It’s protective.
Coordination.
Joint access.
Posture.
Timing.
Perceived safety.
When those start to slip, the system pulls the governor. Not because the athlete is weak. Not because they didn’t want it badly enough.
Because protection always wins.
Why Speed Dies Before Athletes Look Tired
Speed disappears before athletes look exhausted because timing goes first.
Stiffness creeps in.
Force transfer gets sloppy.
The athlete still feels strong, but speed quietly vanishes.
Grinding harder doesn’t fix that. It often confirms the threat.
Effort is muscular.
Speed is neurological.
And fatigue-heavy training can revoke speed permission.
What Christopher Changed
Christopher didn’t abandon effort.
He redirected it.
Speed work came first.
Five sets. Ten seconds each. True maximum velocity. Not just running hard, but running as fast as his body would allow.
Then real rest.
Six to ten times more rest than work.
It felt wrong at first. Too easy. Too quiet.
The Part That Looked Like His Grandpa
Before workouts, he added something else.
Mobility that didn’t look impressive. Simple, controlled movements. Nothing flashy. Nothing Instagram-worthy.
It reminded him of something his grandfather might have done in the morning.
They called it “unlock.”
That word almost made him laugh.
When Speed Came Back
Christopher noticed it quietly.
He wasn’t as sore.
He wasn’t grinding through sessions.
He wasn’t proving how hard he was working.
And yet, he was faster.
Not hyped fast.
Not adrenaline fast.
Clean fast.
Speed showed up when coordination was protected. When joints had access. When the nervous system felt safe enough to allow it.
Why This Shows Up Everywhere
Once Christopher saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.
Soccer players lose first-step speed before they look exhausted.
Football players slow late in practice before strength drops.
Basketball players lose burst before legs burn.
Bat speed falls before power numbers change.
Different sports.
Same rule.
The Real Lesson
Speed isn’t forced open.
It’s allowed.
Christopher didn’t stop being the hardest worker in the room.
He just stopped trying to bully speed into existence.
Effort was never the enemy.
But effort without alignment had been quietly working against him.
Final Thought
When speed disappears, it’s rarely because the athlete didn’t try hard enough.
It’s because permission was quietly taken away.
