The ache in Aarav's muscles and the mental exhaustion from his first simulated Ranji match were a stark, undeniable reality check. His T20-centric training, all about short, explosive bursts of power, was proving inadequate for the marathon demands of first-class cricket. He walked off the ground that evening not just tired, but humbled.
He immediately sought out Coach Reddy, pouring out his frustrations. "I was a different bowler after my third spell, Coach. My pace was gone. My line was all over the place. I can't keep that up for five spells in a day."
Coach Reddy listened patiently, a knowing look on his face. "The game has changed, Aarav. Now everyone focuses on strength training, on gym work, on power. And it's great for T20. But for Ranji... you need to go back to the basics. To the old-school thinking."
The coach then gave him a new, almost revolutionary training plan. It began with long-distance running, not just short sprints. Aarav, a quick, explosive athlete, now found himself pounding the pavement for an hour or more at a steady pace, building a base of endurance that his body had never needed before. It was monotonous, but he pushed through, understanding that every kilometer was a foundation for a future 10-over spell.
But the most profound change came in his bowling practice itself, drawing on the wisdom of legends he'd only read about. Coach Reddy introduced him to old interviews and articles featuring cricketing greats like Kapil Dev and Wasim Akram. Their philosophy was simple, yet diametrically opposed to modern training theory.
"They didn't have fancy gyms and personal trainers," Coach Reddy said, showing him a video of Kapil Dev's fluid, tireless action. "They developed what they called 'bowling muscles.' And how did they do it? By simply keeping on bowling until their bodies gave out. They bowled for hours, even when they were tired, pushing through the pain to build a natural, bowling-specific stamina."
Aarav, who had always meticulously tracked his strength gains in a gym, found this concept both terrifying and liberating. The plan was simple: abandon the strict rep-and-set routines for his bowling arm and just bowl. He would start his sessions with a normal warm-up, but then, instead of finishing when he felt a pre-determined fatigue level, he would keep going. Over after over, until his arm felt heavy and his action started to lose its shape. Only then would he take a break, and then he would do it all over again.
Coach Reddy explained the logic: "When you're tired, your body is forced to find a more efficient, a more natural way to move. You develop that 'muscle memory' for endurance, for finding your rhythm even when you're exhausted. And when you're doing that, you're not lifting weights that put a different kind of strain on your body. You're reducing the risk of injury while building the stamina a genuine fast bowler needs for the long format."
The change was grueling, pushing Aarav past every physical and mental boundary he had set for himself. But with every aching joint and every ball bowled on a tired body, he felt a new kind of strength building, a toughness that wasn't about power, but about persistence. He was no longer just a fast bowler. He was becoming a long-distance athlete, a bowler capable of sustained, relentless pressure, blending the modern science he had researched with the timeless wisdom of the game's greatest.