What is another word for sprints?

Pronunciation: [spɹˈɪnts] (IPA)

Sprints are a powerful way to improve athletic performance and endurance. However, sometimes it can be hard to come up with the right words to describe the various types of sprints. Some synonyms for the word sprints include dashes, dashes, bursts, spurts, rushes, and bolts. Each of these words highlights a slightly different aspect of sprinting, from the explosive power required to burst out of the starting blocks to the sustained speed needed to finish the race strong. Whether you're a track athlete looking to improve your sprinting abilities or simply interested in the many different words used to describe the act of running fast, these synonyms for sprints provide a useful guide.

What are the hypernyms for Sprints?

A hypernym is a word with a broad meaning that encompasses more specific words called hyponyms.

Usage examples for Sprints

If I had as much money as I had time I wouldn't be carrying two young sprints like you down through Mud Lake."
"The Go Ahead Boys on Smugglers' Island"
Ross Kay
On the morning of a race it is a good thing to send a crew to run sprints of seventy or eighty yards, twice.
"Boating"
W. B. Woodgate Commentator: Harvey Mason
The rat, fond of exercise like all rats, had made another of its excitable sprints across the floor.
"A Damsel in Distress"
Pelham Grenville Wodehouse

Famous quotes with Sprints

  • Here's the interesting conversation between the Police Officer and one Indian Engineer who had gone to the police station to report his missing wife.: 'Officer, looks like I have lost my wife. She had gone to the mall yesterday for shopping and has not come home yet.' Okay, what's her height?' 'I've never noticed...maybe 4 to 5 feet?' 'Is she thin?' 'Not thin...may be healthy' 'Color of her eyes?' 'Not sure....maybe black?' 'Color of her hair?' 'Not sure. It keeps on changing.' 'What was she wearing?' 'Maybe Saree or Jeans....or Salwar Kameez?' 'Was she driving a car?' 'Yes!' 'Good! Then tell me the details like plate number, make, model and color of your car.' 'Officer, she has taken my favorite The BMW M135i, which is the top-of-the-range version of the BMW 1 Series. Color is Steel Grey and Plate number SRI 420. My beautiful BMW...she is such a distinctively dynamic vehicle produced by the BMW M GmbH. She's positioned between the most powerful BMW series production models and thoroughbred BMW M vehicles with noticeably higher performance than the previously most powerful engines of any BMW series and have M-specific characteristics in terms of suspension setting and visual appearance, though without any limitations in terms of suitability for everyday use. The heart of my new BMW M135i is her straight six-cylinder gasoline engine with Twin Scroll Turbo technology, Valvetronic, Double VANOS and High Precision Injection. She delivers 235 kW/320 hp and a maximum torque of 450 Nm, power transfer being enabled by her six-speed manual transmission fitted as standard. I know that my BMW M135i sprints from 0 to 100 km/h in just 5.1 seconds (and when automatic, it's 4.9 seconds) to reach a top speed of 250 km/h – that's because that's the top limit permitted by the vehicle's electronic speed control system. Her average fuel consumption in the EU test cycle was found to be 8.0 liters/100 km, and the CO2 emissions level was 188 grams per kilometer. The exclusive power train also features a customized cooling system, M performance control and engine sound tuning, plus a newly developed six-speed manual transmission with dry sump lubrication. She also has a dynamic eight-speed automatic sports transmission with gearshift paddles integrated in the steering wheel included as an option. Please find her as soon as you can. I miss her so much.' ' Wow! That really helps. Your details are awesome, and your memory is absolutely amazing. Please stop crying. We'll search for your car right away, and find her asap.... and maybe we'll find your wife as well.' The End.
    Deodatta V. Shenai-Khatkhate
  • Standing still as a statue in the October shadows, he looked, grotesquely, more like a patriot than anything usually seen on a baseball field. A trick of light perhaps. Yet what famous athlete last died for a cause bigger than himself? Clemente could sometimes seem like a pest, a nagging narcissist, with only his burningly serious play to deny it. Yet when that plane crashed carrying relief supplies to Nicaragua we saw what he had meant all along. It was like the old Clemente crashing into the right field wall in a losing game: the act of a totally serious man. By chance I met Clemente once, in the humble role of autograph-seeker. He was doing wind sprints down at the Pirate training camp in Bradenton, Florida. And although I claimed I was getting an autograph for my son (true, for a change), he looked at me with a hidalgo’s contempt – at a grown man simpering over a blunt pencil; he turned his back abruptly and did another wind sprint, then slashed his name onto my scorecard and sauntered away. To hell with you, Clemente, I thought. But on the way out, I saw him funning with three old ladies from Allentown, Pennsylvania, and I have never seen sweeter courtesy.
    Wilfrid Sheed

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