Fall 2024 (Age 3)
By September, the routine was set solidly in place.
Monday, Wednesday, Friday mornings at 6 AM, Elena and Darius would arrive at the university track while the sun was still coming up. His displayed excitement hadn't waned after a month of regular visits. If anything, he made sure to show even more enthusiasm with each session to maintain the facade.
The training pattern had found its rhythm naturally. Elena would do her workout with long distance runs around the track. Darius ran around the infield doing whatever seemed appropriate for a three-year-old.
Sometimes he followed her and tried to keep pace for as long as his little legs could manage. Sometimes he sprinted back and forth across the grass, using the freedom to actually practice his stride mechanics. Sometimes he examined the track equipment, genuinely interested in understanding how starting blocks worked.
Elena checked on him every few laps. Mostly she let him explore on his own terms.
One Monday morning in October, light rain started falling just as they pulled into the parking lot. Elena considered canceling the session and turning around to go home. But Darius saw the rain through the windshield and acted more excited instead of disappointed.
"Rain, Mama! We still go?"
She looked at him bouncing in his car seat. "You want to run in the rain?"
"Yes!"
So she let him run in the drizzle while she did her own workout. Darius sprinted through puddles, laughing because that's what a three-year-old would do. Internally, he was focused on how the wet track surface affected his foot placement and grip.
He got soaked through within minutes but kept running. Elena watched him and seemed to conclude that he just loved moving for the sake of it. That was fine. Better she thought that than realized he was analyzing performance variables.
Other early-morning athletes were starting to recognize him by then. "That's Elena's kid," he'd heard someone say one morning. "The one who runs."
Word was getting around the track community about the three-year-old who showed up multiple times a week. The three-year-old who actually ran with decent form instead of just playing.
His endurance was improving as the weeks passed. He could run longer distances before his toddler body gave out. His form stayed consistent even when fatigue set in.
The abilities were working exactly as the system had promised. Building his foundation slowly. Steadily. As his body grew and developed naturally.
That evening when they got home, Tobias asked if Darius ever got bored at the track. Elena pulled out her phone and showed him a video from that morning. Darius doing sprints in the rain with a huge smile.
Tobias laughed and shook his head. "I guess not."
Darius had learned to perform enthusiasm well.
Winter 2024-25 (Ages 3-4)
When December arrived, the outdoor track became too cold for safe training. The university closed it for winter maintenance. Elena switched to an indoor facility with a smaller 200-meter track.
More crowded. Less ideal. But necessary.
Darius turned four in mid-December. They had a small family celebration at home. When Elena asked what he wanted for his birthday, he knew exactly what to say.
"Running shoes. Real ones."
She got him proper kids' running shoes from the sporting goods store. He wore them constantly after that. Even inside the house. Tobias joked that he'd probably wear them to bed if they let him.
Darius would have if it wouldn't seem strange.
The indoor track was harder to navigate than outdoor had been. The turns were tighter because of the smaller circumference. More people training in limited space meant he had to be more careful.
He couldn't run as freely as he was used to. He got strategically frustrated sometimes. Let Elena see him struggle with patience.
She taught him how to time his runs and work around other athletes. An important lesson, she said. Not everything would be perfect in training.
He already knew that from twenty-two years of complete immobility. But he nodded and acted like it was a revelation.
One of the college sprinters noticed him one day and came over after finishing his workout. The guy crouched down to Darius's level. "You race yet?"
Darius shook his head. "Not yet. Someday."
The sprinter smiled. "Keep at it, little man."
Despite the indoor facility's limitations, Darius was improving. Elena occasionally timed him during sprints. His 100-meter times were getting faster week by week.
Still nowhere near competitive by real standards. But better than he'd been. Better than any other four-year-old.
By late February, he counted down to outdoor track opening. Not out of childish impatience. Out of genuine need for better training conditions.
Spring 2025 (Age 4)
On a Saturday afternoon in April, Tobias took Darius to the local park playground.
Other kids were there enjoying the weather. Ranging from toddlers to seven or eight years old. Some around Darius's age, all running around with typical child energy.
The kids started racing each other spontaneously. Running from the playground equipment to the fence and back. Maybe forty or fifty meters total.
Darius asked Tobias if he could join. Tobias said yes.
He lined up with six other kids ranging from four to seven. Someone's parent counted down from three. They took off.
Darius won easily. He finished while second place was still halfway back.
The other kids were surprised. The parents watching made comments. "Wow, he's fast!" one mother said. "Does he run track?"
Tobias explained that his wife was an Olympic runner. That seemed to satisfy their curiosity.
But Darius knew it didn't explain his level of speed or form.
The kids wanted a rematch. This time only the older kids raced him. He still won. Still not particularly close.
Now people were really noticing.
Darius made sure not to go too fast. Had to maintain the illusion of being a talented child, not a reincarnated adult with system abilities. The balance was delicate.
Tobias texted Elena on the way to the car. "You should've seen him at the park today."
She replied: "I can imagine."
In the car, Darius stayed quiet. Tobias asked if he'd had fun.
"They were slower than me."
Simple observation. Not bragging. Just fact.
"Yeah, you're pretty fast," Tobias agreed.
"Want to be faster."
"You will be. You're getting faster every day."
Darius looked out the window. He had years ahead. Years of growth and training and systematic improvement. The park race meant nothing except confirmation that the foundation was working.
Summer 2025 (Age 4)
By July, Elena was preparing for Diamond League meets. Her training had become more serious. Higher intensity sessions that required focus.
She had less attention for Darius during workouts. He watched her run one morning and realized she wasn't sure how to develop him further.
He'd gotten faster over the past year. His form was excellent. But Elena ran distance. Sprint training was completely different. Different mechanics. Different energy systems. Different everything.
She could let him run. She could time him. But actual sprint coaching wasn't her expertise.
Her coach was at the track that day. He noticed Darius running. "He's gotten fast."
Elena nodded. "I don't know what to do with him anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I can let him run. Time him. But actual coaching? Sprint mechanics?" She gestured toward Darius. "That's not what I know."
Her coach mentioned knowing youth sprint coaches. People who specialized in developing young talent properly. Maybe time to reach out?
Elena hesitated. Darius was only four. Most programs started at six.
But her coach pointed out what she already knew. Darius wasn't like most kids.
Darius kept running while they talked. He'd already figured this was coming. Elena had taken him as far as her knowledge allowed. A sprint coach was the logical next step.
Elena decided to wait until he was five. One more year together. Then proper coaching.
That evening she discussed it with Tobias. Darius listened from his room. Heard "proper coach" and "next year" and "more structured."
Perfect. Everything was progressing exactly as it needed to.
Fall 2025 (Age 4)
September brought pre-K.
Elena dropped Darius off on his first day. He pretended to be nervous. Internally he just felt resigned to navigating another social obligation carefully.
The differences between him and actual four-year-olds were immediately apparent. They talked about cartoons with genuine enthusiasm. He had to fake interest in things that held no appeal to a twenty-two-year-old consciousness.
They played pretend games with arbitrary rules. Exhausting to participate in. Pointless from his perspective.
At recess, kids ran around with chaotic energy. Darius ran too but kept his form proper out of habit. Controlled movement. Efficient.
The teacher noticed. "Darius runs very well." Other kids noticed too. Asked why he ran like that.
He just shrugged.
Kids started racing at recess. Natural playground behavior. Darius joined because racing was something he could do without faking enthusiasm.
He won every race easily. After a few days, something shifted.
Kids started seeking him out specifically. "Race me, Darius!" became common. They wanted to challenge him. See how close they could get.
He became known as the fastest kid in pre-K. That reputation gave him unexpected social advantage.
Making friends became easier. Or maintaining the appearance of friendship became easier. Kids who raced him would talk afterward. Those conversations were manageable.
Some asked if he could teach them to run faster. He showed them basic arm position and foot placement. Teaching was easier than pretending to play.
Elena noticed he seemed less withdrawn. Asked how school was going. He gave enough details to satisfy her.
That night Darius thought about the strange dynamics of being an adult trapped in a child's world. Being fast had given him a way to interact that didn't require pretending to be mentally four.
On the playground during races, he could just run and compete. That was authentic.
The rest of it was exhausting. The pretending. The acting. The maintaining of facades. But at least he had running as an outlet. At least he had the track where he didn't have to pretend.
Early 2026 (Age 5)
By February, Elena had been researching sprint coaches for months.
She'd been asking around the track community. Looking for someone patient and positive. Someone who understood child development. Someone who wouldn't push too hard but would challenge appropriately.
Her coach suggested Devon Mitchell. Former college sprinter. Ran a youth track program for ages six to twelve. Known for developing fundamentals and building love of the sport.
Good reputation. Might make an exception for a talented five-year-old.
Elena brought Darius to meet Coach Devon on a Saturday morning. The coach was in his thirties. Athletic build. Warm and approachable.
He talked to Darius at eye level. "Your mom says you like to run."
Darius nodded. Playing shy seemed appropriate.
"Want to show me?"
They walked to the track. Coach Devon asked for a simple fifty-meter sprint.
Darius lined up and ran when told. Pushed hard while the coach watched with his stopwatch.
Afterward, Coach Devon talked to Elena while Darius got water. "His form is remarkable for his age. Never seen a five-year-old with mechanics like that."
"I showed him basics. He mostly figured it out watching races."
Coach Devon raised his eyebrows. "He's five?"
"Just turned five."
Long pause. The coach looked back at Darius. "I'll take him."
The program started in March. Twice weekly. Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Small group of eight to ten kids. Mostly six and seven years old.
Focus on fundamentals. Building proper foundation. Darius would be youngest by over a year.
Elena felt relief. Finally, proper coaching. Someone who knew sprints. Could develop his talent correctly.
Darius maintained appropriate excitement on the drive home. Internally he was calculating. Two years of foundation with Elena. Now real structured training with proper coaching.
The journey toward GOAT status was progressing exactly as planned.
The night before his first practice, Darius lay in bed unable to sleep. Not from childish excitement. From anticipation of finally moving to the next phase.
Tomorrow meant structured training. Real coaching. Progression toward his goal.
He was drifting off when a flicker appeared in his vision. Familiar. Not seen in two years.
Blue glow in the darkness.
The screen materialized. Same interface from the void. But now visible with physical eyes.
[System Reactivation Detected]
[User has reached developmental milestone]
[Track & Field GOAT System resuming operations]
[Welcome back, Future GOAT]
Darius stared at the screen. Heart pounding in his small chest.
The system was back.