The community center track buzzed with energy. Kids in colorful uniforms warmed up while parents set up chairs and coolers along the fence. Zen clutched his bib number as Angela pinned it to his singlet.
"Remember, have fun," she said. "This is your first race."
Marcus checked Zen's spikes. "Start line for 200m heats is over there. We need to check in at the official's table."
As they approached the table, a boy in front of them let out a dramatic groan. "Mom, you packed like I'm going to the Olympics. It's just running in circles."
The woman beside him adjusted his bib. "Trey Williams, you'll thank me when you need those extra socks."
Trey rolled his eyes, then noticed Zen. "Hey, you in 8 and under?"
Zen nodded. "Yeah. 200 and 400."
"Two events?" Trey's eyes widened. "You're crazy. I can barely handle the 200 without dying." He stuck out his hand. "Trey Williams. I'm in 9-10 age group."
"Zen Cross."
"Cross?" Trey's mom looked up. "Like Marcus and Angela Cross?"
Marcus nodded and introduced himself. As the parents chatted, Trey leaned toward Zen.
"My dad says your parents were fast. Like, Olympic medal fast."
"Yeah, they were," Zen said.
"That explains it," Trey snorted. "Meanwhile, my dad's only sport is channel surfing, but my mom thinks I'm the next Usain Bolt."
A taller boy jogged up to the table. His movements were fluid and controlled, clearly an experienced runner despite being young.
"Hey Mrs. Williams," he said, then noticed Trey and Zen. "You guys all set to race?"
"Andre's asking like he's the coach," Trey said to Zen. "He's eleven going on forty."
Andre laughed. "Just trying to help. First meet?" he asked Zen.
"Yeah."
"You got this, little bro." Andre's smile was easy and confident. "Just run your own race."
DING
[SCANNING COMPETITION FIELD]
[8 AND UNDER DIVISION - 12 COMPETITORS]
[TOP COMPETITION: KEVIN LEWIS (AGE 8) - ESTIMATED 200M: 32.5 SECONDS]
Zen breathed easier seeing the system's analysis. His competition wasn't close to his level.
"Eleven and twelve-year-old boys, report to the clerk for 200 meter heats!" an official announced through a megaphone.
"That's me," Andre said. "Good luck with your races. Maybe I'll catch them after mine." He jogged away, his form already showing advanced technique.
"Andre's the fastest kid in the 11-12 group," Trey explained. "But he's cool about it. Not stuck up like some of these other kids."
Trey's mother checked her watch. "Trey, your race is in thirty minutes. You should warm up."
"Fine," Trey sighed dramatically. "See you around, Zen. Don't make the rest of us look bad."
Andre's race was first. Zen watched with his parents from the bleachers as the older boy settled into the blocks. At the gun, Andre burst forward, running the curve with perfect form. By the time he hit the straight, he was three meters ahead of everyone else.
"Look at his form," Marcus said. "Textbook."
Andre crossed the line in 28.1 seconds, winning by a large margin.
DING
[SUBJECT ANALYSIS: ANDRE JOHNSON]
[EXCEPTIONAL TALENT FOR AGE 11]
[PROJECTION: POTENTIAL NATIONAL LEVEL JUNIOR COMPETITOR]
Next came Trey's age group. Trey approached the start line doing an elaborate stretching routine that looked more like dancing. Several parents laughed. But when the gun went off, Trey transformed. His running was surprisingly smooth and powerful. He finished second in his heat with 31.4 seconds.
"Not bad for a kid who complains about running," Angela observed.
After his race, Trey bounded up to the bleachers. "Did you see that? Second place! And I don't even like track!" He flopped down next to Zen. "When's your race?"
"Next heat," Zen said, his heart beating faster now that his turn approached.
"You nervous?" Trey asked.
"A little."
"Don't be. Just imagine you're chasing an ice cream truck."
Andre appeared beside them, hardly breathing hard despite his race. "Good job, Trey."
"I came in second," Trey said proudly.
"I saw. Nice finish." Andre turned to Zen. "You're up soon, right? The 8 and under field looks pretty good this year. That kid Kevin won the regional last month."
Zen nodded, spotting a boy in a blue uniform who must be Kevin. The system had already identified him as the top competition.
"Eight and under boys, report to the clerk for 200 meter heats!" the announcer called.
"That's you, buddy," Marcus said. "Remember your strategy."
Angela hugged him quickly. "Have fun!"
"Go get 'em, rocket boy!" Trey called as Zen walked toward the start area.
Six boys lined up for Zen's heat. The official assigned him lane 4, right in the middle. Perfect position.
DING
[200M RACE STRATEGY ACTIVATED]
[RECOMMENDATION: AGGRESSIVE START, CONTROL CURVE, FULL ACCELERATION FINAL 100M]
As Zen settled into his stance, he heard Trey's voice from the stands, "Yo, let's go Zen! Smoke these dudes!"
"Runners, take your marks," the starter called. "Set..."
The gun fired. Zen exploded from his position, his small legs churning against the track surface. The power in his start surprised even him, his child body responding better than he expected. He drove hard for the first twenty meters, his arms pumping in perfect rhythm with his legs.
The curve loomed ahead, and Zen leaned into it with practiced precision. The centrifugal force tried to pull him outward, but he counteracted it perfectly, maintaining his speed while others slowed. His breathing was controlled, his form tight.
"Look at lane four!" someone shouted from the bleachers.
Halfway through the curve, Zen glanced quickly to his right. No one was visible, they were all behind him. He focused forward again, driving off the curve and into the straightaway.
[EXECUTION: 92% OPTIMAL]
[CURRENT POSITION: FIRST, LEAD BY 5 METERS]
The straightaway was where Zen truly showed his class. While the other boys began to tighten up, their young muscles fighting the lactic acid buildup, Zen maintained his form. His knees lifted high, his arms driving powerfully.
The gap widened with every stride. Ten meters. Twelve. Fifteen.
"Look at that kid go!" a coach shouted from the infield.
"He's flying!" another voice called.
Kevin, in lane 5, fought valiantly to keep pace but was fading quickly. The rest of the field was already well behind.
The final fifty meters showcased Zen's superior technique. Where other eight-year-olds were flailing, Zen's form remained impeccable, head steady, shoulders relaxed, arms driving at perfect ninety-degree angles.
He crossed the finish line with no one close to him. He slowed to a stop, controlling his breathing like a veteran. The official clicked his stopwatch.
"Heat winner, lane 4. Twenty-seven point two seconds."
Murmurs spread through the crowd. That was fast for an 8-year-old. Very fast.
Trey met him as he walked back. "Dude! You made those kids look like they were jogging! That was crazy!"
Andre nodded appreciatively. "That's elite level speed for your age. Like, national class."
Zen tried to look surprised and excited rather than satisfied. "Really?"
"Really," Andre confirmed. "You qualified for the finals for sure."
His parents arrived, Marcus's coaching face on. "Good execution. How did it feel?"
"Good. I held form through the curve like we practiced."
Angela checked the results board. "You're the fastest qualifier by... five seconds. That's incredible."
"The same strategy for the finals," Marcus said. "But you can push even harder on the straight."
Two hours later, Zen stood at the starting line for the 200m final. The atmosphere had changed, now there was anticipation in the air. Word had spread about the 8-year-old with the Olympic parents who had blazed through his heat.
This time, instead of six racers, there were eight, the top finishers from all the heats. Kevin stood in lane 5 again, his face set with determination.
"Runners, take your marks... set..."
The gun cracked and Zen was off, even stronger than in his heat. His start was explosive, back straight, head up, driving forward with purpose. His first steps were quick and powerful, establishing an immediate gap.
The curve approached faster this time as he attacked it with confidence. He tilted his body at the perfect angle, his inside arm pumping shorter than his outside arm, just as his parents had taught him.
"He's already pulling away!" someone yelled from the stands.
Exiting the curve, Zen opened his stride. The track seemed to disappear beneath him as his legs turned over with remarkable speed for a child his age. Kevin was giving everything to stay close, but the gap was only widening.
With seventy meters to go, Zen found another gear. His legs felt strong, his lungs efficient. The distance between him and the field grew with each stride.
By the time he crossed the line, he was eight full meters ahead of second place. The crowd's reaction said it all, spontaneous applause erupted from parents and coaches who recognized something special.
"Twenty-seven point zero," the official announced, sounding impressed despite himself.
DING
[200M PERFORMANCE ANALYSIS: EXCEPTIONAL]
[AGE-GROUP RECORD PACE]
[RECOVERY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED FOR 400M PREPARATION]
As Zen received his gold medal, he spotted Trey showing off his silver from the 9-10 age group to some other kids.
"Yo, Zen!" Trey called after the ceremony. "We both got hardware! But yours was way more impressive."
Andre joined them, gold medal hanging around his neck. "That was some serious running. I've never seen an eight-year-old move like that."
"Thanks," Zen said, trying to balance pride with modesty.
A small crowd of parents and coaches had gathered nearby, talking in low voices and occasionally glancing at Zen.
"You're famous now," Trey laughed. "Wait till they see your 400m. That's coming up next, right?"
Zen nodded. "In about an hour and a half."
"Man, if you can dominate the 200 like that, the 400's gonna be insane," Trey said. "I might actually stay and watch instead of going for ice cream."
"High praise coming from Trey," Andre grinned. "He usually bails right after his race."
Marcus approached them. "Zen, we should get some food and rest before the 400m heats. You need to recover properly."
DING
[400M PREPARATION PROTOCOL]
[RECOMMENDED: 20 MINUTES LIGHT STRETCHING, 30 MINUTES REST, 15 MINUTES GRADUAL WARM-UP]
[NUTRITION: SMALL CARB-PROTEIN SNACK, 12-16 OZ WATER]
As Zen followed his parents to their tent, he could hear the whispers.
"That's the Cross kid. Did you see that 200?"
"Going for the 400m too. Bold move for an eight-year-old."
"With that speed, imagine what he could do in the longer race..."
Angela handed him a banana and a small peanut butter sandwich. "Eat this, then we'll do some light stretching."
"How are you feeling?" Marcus asked, studying his face.
"Good," Zen said truthfully. "Ready for the 400."
"One event at a time," Angela reminded him. "That 200 was spectacular, but the 400 is a different challenge."
Zen ate his snack, watching as the track officials prepared for the next set of races. His 200m victory had been satisfying, but the 400m was his true event. It had always been.
The event where he'd reached the Olympic final in his previous life.
The event that had been stolen from him.
Now, he had a chance to reclaim it, starting with his very first 400m competition.