When I come off the last bend in a 400m race, I'm scared. There's something right behind me, behind all of us. At first we're safe. If we remembered what was waiting for us we might not have taken off so quickly, but we want to win. Stupid. That's what it wants. About 80m into the race we settle into a rhythm. It doesn't like that, but it knows there's always someone who is a little too excited. As we come into the bend at 200m the real race starts. Anyone who's either taken the race out too fast or is not in peak form knows that a Lactaur is waiting to feast on their soon-to-be agonizing flesh. Lactaurs, known also as Lactic Acid Monsters, feed on the metabolic waste of exhausted sprinters. They wait until lactic acid has built up so high that hydrogen ions are staring to acidify our blood, slowing down our nervous systems (and legs). That's when they strike.
By 250m there's nothing we can do anymore. A Lactaur can't catch a 400m runner at top speed but once we start slowing down they gain ground quickly. By 300m they can easily outrun anyone.
Lactaurs are typically invisible to people who haven't run either the 400m, 800m, or 400m hurdles. Even if you are unable to see them you'll be able to tell when they strike if you know the signs. Look for stiffening of the arms, dropping of the knees, the grimace, and occasionally a cocking back of the head. In extreme cases when someone's been overcome by an exceptionally humongous Lactaur you will be able to clearly see an exaggerated rotation of the torso with each arm drive as the unfortunate victim tries to shake off the beast. When the race is over the athlete is helpless and there's nothing anyone can do. The Lactaur has them now.
For those of you who have never seen a Lactaur I've made an illustrated guide showing you exactly what it's like to run the 400m:
Lactaurs are typically invisible to people who haven't run either the 400m, 800m, or 400m hurdles. Even if you are unable to see them you'll be able to tell when they strike if you know the signs. Look for stiffening of the arms, dropping of the knees, the grimace, and occasionally a cocking back of the head. In extreme cases when someone's been overcome by an exceptionally humongous Lactaur you will be able to clearly see an exaggerated rotation of the torso with each arm drive as the unfortunate victim tries to shake off the beast. When the race is over the athlete is helpless and there's nothing anyone can do. The Lactaur has them now.
For those of you who have never seen a Lactaur I've made an illustrated guide showing you exactly what it's like to run the 400m:
UPDATE: Check out part 2, "The Lactaur survival guide!"
