The New York Times recently published an article on the best American cross-country skier ever, Jessie Diggins. Diggins has become legendary among cross-country skiers for her ability to dig insanely deep into herself.

While Diggins lacks the brute strength of some of her Olympic peers and does not always make the best tactical choices, her ability to tolerate pain is her greatest asset. “She’s one of the best at getting exhausted, and one of the best at continuing after she’s exhausted,” says Thomas Losnegard, a skiing professor at the Norwegian School of Sport Sciences and head of the Department of Endurance at the Norwegian Olympic Training Center. “We think it’s fascinating that someone from the United States could actually beat a Norwegian.”

The most interesting part of the article described Diggins’ discovery, at the age of 15, of her superpower.

Diggins discovered this superpower at 15, when as a freshman she was anchoring the final leg of a high school relay. Her teammates told her that she had to beat a particular skier from a rival high school who would be wearing a green race suit. But the rival team had more than 100 skiers, with multiple relay teams in each race, and Diggins was overwhelmed at seeing some 20 skiers wearing the same green race suit. She couldn’t figure out who she needed to pass, or even which green suits were on the third leg and which were on the final leg. Pushing herself in a way she had never done before, she passed all 20 skiers from the rival team, then collapsed at the finish thinking she was going to die.

“Then, 30 seconds later, it was, Oh — I’m not going to die,” Diggins recalls. “It was a huge lightbulb. This whole next level had been there the whole time, and I can access it if I am willing to push that hard. All it is is pain. It’s not permanent damage. I want to know what my true potential is. I never want to wonder, What if I had just been a little tougher mentally?”

Seeing this quote brought me back to the most memorable football practice of my life. This occurred while I was in 9th grade at the U.L. Light Junior High School in Barberton, Ohio.

The fall of 1979. Hoo boy, that’s a long time ago!

Where am I? I’m in the middle of the 2nd row, wearing the white t-shirt.

First, an explainer about the “up-down” drill for those not familiar with football. Simply put, it is a conditioning drill akin to burpees. Check out the video below.

As you can see, some players show signs of exhaustion after 30 seconds.

On a hot August day in 1979, Coach Nauer and Coach Ursetti decided to push us to our limits and beyond. To the best of my recollection, they announced that they wanted to set the school record for most “up-downs.” They announced that they were going make us do 200 up-downs. My memory is a bit hazy on the number, but I am reasonably sure that it was 200. Anyway, they probably pulled that number out of their asses.

We 15-year-olds had no idea what was in store for us. We were boys before this practice and emerged on the other side much closer to being men than before. I can’t speak for the others who participated in this practice, but it remains a defining moment in my athletic career.

We started out fresh, running in place and hitting the ground after each whistle. Some were in quick succession, and others were more spaced apart. Exhaustion quickly set in.

“DO NOT QUIT! KEEP GOING!” followed by a whistle. Up and down. Up and down.

“100!”

Only 100 more to go. This was turning into a death march. We were dragging and soaked in sweat on the hot, humid August day.

Up and down. Up and down.

“150!”

I was near death, or so I convinced myself. How the hell are my teammates and I going to make it to 200? My feet felt as if they were weighed down by concrete blocks. I could barely lift them while running in place.

At the same time, a “band of brothers” effect was starting to take hold as we encouraged each other to hang in there. “Come on, we can do it!”

“190!”

We were going to hell and back with this insane conditioning drill. Sheer exhaustion had set in. There was no freaking way we were going to live after this. Or so I thought.

“195!”

My mind had gone blank at this point. I wasn’t thinking anymore. I didn’t think that I would have the energy to get off the grass, but somehow I did. It was a freaking struggle to stand up and resume running in place (if you can call it that).

“200!”

The coaches celebrated this milestone. On the other hand, we 15-year-olds were not exactly in a celebratory mood. We had nothing left and were dehydrated. AND, this was just the beginning of practice. I honestly don’t remember the rest of the practice. I do remember getting a generous water break after that brutal conditioning session.

Another memory from that day is talking to the father of a teammate. He was beaming with pride about our accomplishment. He had tried out for the Green Bay Packers in the 1960s and said, “Vince Lombardi did that to us!” No, he did not make the cut or play professional ball, but it was a point of pride for him that he was invited to try out for the Packers.

“You are now men!” he exclaimed.

I didn’t think of it that way because I was still exhausted down to my bones.

But as I lay in bed that night, I had the same revelation as Jessie Diggins did when she was 15. Recall that she said to herself, “Oh — I’m not going to die” after she was convinced that she was going to.

We were pushed to our limits and beyond, and we made it.

We met the challenge put forth by our coaches. I felt that anything was possible after that near-death experience (to my teenage mind). Our coaches did not repeat this for the remainder of August, wanting to keep us fresh for the season. But it brought the team together.

Sure, there were plenty of tough football practices after this experience. In addition, one memorable workout during my Notre Dame martial arts years came close to rivalling the football practice from hell.

But the practice from hell in the summer of 1979 still sticks in my mind as THE formative experience for me, and it made me realize I could do a lot more than I thought possible.

I once read an article about Pat Summitt, the great coach of the Tennessee women’s basketball program. The article indicated that she would set up trash cans around the basketball court during their conditioning sessions, knowing that the players would inevitably puke from exhaustion. It must have worked since she won 8 National Championships. It’s not so much the physical conditioning as building mental toughness. That’s the real point of these exercises.

In hindsight, I emerged from that practice a different person than I had been before. Sure, in a lot of ways, I was the same kid. Yet I was mentally different.

Simply put, anything was possible. And that set the stage for my martial arts career.

How about you? Have you had experiences like mine? Let’s hear about them!