@DrCarson73

Who would you picture if I told you to envision the ultimate athlete?

J.J. Watt? Russell Westbrook? Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez?

Chances are, the pinnacle predator you're imagining is 6'6", shredded from skull to toe and eats the offspring of its opponents for fear of challenges to the throne.

And that's not the wrong thing to picture. This kind of monster is the accepted American archetype of the perfect athlete, but it's not the specimen I envision.

Where some see perfection as Michael Jordan or Ivan Drago, I see Bartolo Colon—the 42-year-old pitching ace whose silhouette is closer to Grimace than His Airness. I see a body forged in the wood-burning ovens of a California Pizza Kitchen with a heart that pumps excellence and marinara in equal measure.

@DrCarson73

I say this because Colon is changing the game in 2015, and the writing is on the wall for anyone who cares to look.

Thus far this season, the New York Mets righty has notched eight wins in 12 outings. He's also strung together a hitting streak and hunted a man down like a monitor lizard.

It can no longer be ignored: Colon is the athlete of the future. He is 283 pounds of well-marbled strength and agility, and his success will soon change the trends of modern strength and conditioning from box jumps to box lunch.

Here's why:

Stealth Strength

MLB

Developing an appreciation for Colon's athleticism is not unlike learning to fear mudslides.

Your first impulse is to pay the mudslide no mind, figuring mud is dumb and weak and that you can kick the ass of any natural disaster listed on the dessert menu at Ruby Tuesday's. No problem, right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Like mudslides, the minute you turn your back on Colon, he will bury you. You will not see it coming, and before you can react, he will overwhelm you, as he's done this season by stepping to the plate and crushing loopers past unsuspecting fielders.

Let's take a look at the tape: Colon kicked off a three-game hitting streak in May with this single against the Philadelphia Phillies.

MLB

It seemed like a miracle, but, no, it was more like a tuneup—a shot across the bow warning of hits to come.

The other shoe dropped a week later when Colon clobbered an RBI double against the Miami Marlins. The hit drove in Anthony Recker and helped the Mets to a 4-3 win—and it could've been worse. Colon could've had a triple but graciously opted to stop at second.

"No way," Colon modestly told Jared Diamond of the Wall Street Journal when asked if he could've run to third. "At my age, I’d rather pitch than concentrate on running or swinging the bat."

Humble talk, but the Dominican missile showed his true colors during his next at-bat in June, knocking a single against the Diamondbacks. He's basically just picking his spots now.

Beware the stealth strength. Colon says he's already passed his supposed hitting goal for the season, but that's just what he wants you to think.

Crab Speed

Don't get it twisted: Colon is mobile, but it's a different kind of mobility.

The Dominican native doesn't have that classic kind of speed where your body moves fast and fluidly and you get drafted by the Oakland Raiders.

Colon has what I like to call crab speed—a way less predictable form of agility that covers a surprising amount of distance while simultaneously leaving everyone deeply confused.

It was this crab-like agility that allowed Colon to catch A.J. Pierzynski asleep at the wheel in April. Not expecting a sneak attack, the Atlanta Braves catcher malfunctioned mid-run when he saw a skittering Colon coming his way in a blur of jerky lateral movement.

MLB

Colon won't beat you in the 100-yard dash, but his hypnotic muscle confusion can turn a basepath into a phone booth real quick.

His Play Is Affecting the Very Fabric of the Game

Perhaps the most telling indicator of a singular athlete is his or her ability to literally affect the rules of the game.

Take Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, whose dominance led to a dunk ban in college basketball. Then there was Wayne Gretzky, whose open-ice skill changed the way officials punished offsetting minors.

Colon, in his own right, is single-handedly keeping MLB rules in place. His hitting in 2015 is actively torpedoing any and all arguments for the introduction of the designated hitter to the National League.

MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred recently held up Colon's hitting streak as a shining example of the joy baseball fans would lose should the DH be implemented in the NL.

“Not having National League pitchers hit would deprive us of the entertainment that Bartolo Colon has given us this year," Manfred said. "It's been a great source of entertainment for me. I don't know about for the rest of you, but it has been for me.”

When the commissioner is publicly using your skill as a defense of league policy, you're making waves.

Closing Statements

It should be apparent by now that Colon's athletic renaissance is having a real and immediate impact on the league at large. He is the paradigm shift, the beginning of a new sports fitness cycle, where strength and agility are cloaked in deception and carbohydrates.

But if you need further proof of Colon's arsenal of physical weaponry, take it from Mets manager Terry Collins, who recently praised his pitcher while simultaneously working to keep his regimen a secret.

"There’s a reason this guy has pitched for [18] years," Collins said, per the New York Post's Fred Kerber. "And if you could do nothing else, learn about how he goes about things."

"You don’t have to copy him—don’t copy him physically—just how he gets ready to pitch every night, I think it’s going to help your career," Collins said.

That's right, kids. Don't copy Colon, or you'll pitch forever, hit better than Robinson Cano, and have the speed and finesse of a charging honey badger. Who'd want that?

Dan is on Twitter, carbo-loading to increase crab speed.