Zen sat alone in a quiet corner of the facility, mentally preparing for his signature event. The 200m had been impressive. The 400m would be something else entirely.
Coach Dormer approached with lane assignments in hand. "Lane four," he said simply. "Fastest qualifier gets the preferred lane."
"Perfect," Zen replied, already running the race in his mind.
"Your preliminary time has everyone talking," Coach continued. "47.8 in prelims puts you in position to break the regional record. But I think you've got more in the tank."
Zen nodded. He absolutely did.
DING
[400M FINALS STRATEGY]
[TARGET SPLITS: 10.8 - 22.1 - 33.4 - 46.5]
[REGIONAL RECORD: 47.85]
[RECOMMENDATION: AGGRESSIVE FIRST 200M]
Zen studied the system's analysis. The target time was ambitious but realistic. With his younger body and yesterday's 200m proof of speed, he could potentially deliver something special.
"I know this is your event," Coach said. "The 200 was impressive, but this is where you should shine."
"I'm ready," Zen assured him.
Coach handed him the heat sheet:
Lane 1: Wilson (Jefferson) - 49.23
Lane 2: Davis (Central) - 48.92
Lane 3: Rodriguez (Lincoln) - 48.89
Lane 4: Cross (Westridge) - 47.81
Lane 5: Thompson (Central) - 48.67
Lane 6: Washington (Carter) - 48.75
Lane 7: Miller (Lincoln) - 48.99
Lane 8: Chen (Eastern) - 49.31
"Thompson wants redemption after the 200m," Coach noted. "But with a full second gap from prelims, they're all racing for second place. This is yours to win."
From the stands, Zen could hear Trey gathering teammates to watch. His parents had secured front-row seats, his mother clutching her program while his father sat with the focused expression Zen knew well from his own Olympic preparation days.
Unlike the 200m where he'd been a contender, the 400m came with different pressure. Now he was the overwhelming favorite. The hunter had become the hunted.
DING
[COMPETITOR ASSESSMENT]
[FIELD AVERAGE: 48.82]
[PRIMARY THREAT: THOMPSON (48.67)]
[VICTORY PROBABILITY: 97% WITH NORMAL EXECUTION]
Zen began his warm-up routine with methodical precision. Each movement purposeful, each stride and drill calculated for maximum activation. His body felt strong. Ready for something historic.
D'Angelo watched from nearby, his eyes analytical. After yesterday's conversation, Zen could feel a shift in their dynamic. A mutual respect between elite athletes.
The crowd had swelled for the evening finals. Where the morning prelims had been sparsely attended, now the stands were packed. The energy was electric, anticipation building for the showcase events.
"First call for men's 400 meter dash final," the announcer's voice echoed through the facility.
Zen finished his final strides, feeling the perfect combination of relaxation and readiness. This was his element. The 400m had defined his previous life, taking him to Olympic finals and professional glory. In this younger, stronger body, what might be possible?
The staging area had the hushed tension of championship competition. The other finalists eyed Zen cautiously. Yesterday's 200m victory had established him as a serious talent. Today's dominant preliminary time had elevated him to favorite status.
"You got this," Thompson said unexpectedly, breaking the pre-race silence. "Just make it look good for the rest of us."
Zen nodded in acknowledgment. Mutual respect among competitors.
The officials gathered the finalists, checking bibs and lanes before leading them onto the track. The crowd rose as they emerged, recognizing that the 400m final represented one of the meet's premier events.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our finalists in the men's 400 meter dash!"
The announcer introduced each competitor, saving the favorite for last.
"And in lane four, from Westridge High School, your regional 200 meter champion and the top qualifier in the 400 with a time of 47.81 seconds, Zen Cross!"
The crowd roared, Westridge supporters creating the loudest section. Zen acknowledged them with a small wave before focusing back on his lane.
"Did you see Dormer's face?" Thompson asked as they moved to their lanes. "He can't believe what's happening."
Zen glanced at his coach, who indeed looked both excited and somewhat disbelieving. That would only intensify in about 47 seconds.
Setting his blocks with practiced precision, Zen found the perfect angles for maximum drive. Two practice starts confirmed the positioning. Everything felt right.
DING
[FINAL RACE PREPARATION]
[PHYSIOLOGICAL READINESS: OPTIMAL]
[MENTAL FOCUS: CHAMPIONSHIP LEVEL]
[STATUS: PRIME PERFORMANCE WINDOW]
The stadium quieted as the starter raised his hand.
"Runners, to your marks."
Zen settled into the blocks, finding that perfect balance point, weight loaded and ready.
"Set."
His hips rose to the optimal position, body coiled with explosive potential.
The gun cracked.
Zen exploded from the blocks with controlled aggression. The 400m required perfect energy distribution. Too fast at the start meant death in the final straight. Too conservative meant giving away too much ground.
The first 100 meters unfolded exactly to plan. Not maximum sprint, but fast enough to establish position. As they hit the first curve, Zen leaned with technical perfection, maintaining speed while conserving energy.
DING
[100M SPLIT: 10.81]
[POSITION: 1ST BY 0.2 SECONDS]
[STATUS: OPTIMAL EXECUTION]
Coming through the first 200 meters, Zen felt completely in control. Thompson was giving chase in lane five, but already the gap was widening. Zen passed the halfway mark with textbook execution.
DING
[200M SPLIT: 22.12]
[PACE: SUB-47 TRAJECTORY]
[FORM: 98% EFFICIENCY]
The backstretch was where 400m races were truly decided. As fatigue began to accumulate, technique often deteriorated. But Zen's experience allowed him to maintain perfect form despite the building oxygen debt.
He could sense the field beginning to strain behind him. The gap was growing with every stride. This wasn't just winning. This was dominating.
Entering the final curve, Zen accelerated smoothly. Where others began to tighten, he maintained fluid mechanics, arms pumping with precision, legs turning over with metronomic consistency.
DING
[300M SPLIT: 33.43]
[PROJECTED FINISH: 46.5 RANGE]
[GAP TO SECOND: 8 METERS]
The final straight revealed the true race. Zen was alone, the field falling further behind with each powerful stride. The crowd began to realize they were witnessing something extraordinary, the noise building as he powered toward the finish.
Zen crossed the line with his form still intact, not even requiring a dramatic lean. The victory margin was massive, the field completely outclassed.
He slowed gradually, controlling his breathing as he turned to see the clock. The crowd's reaction told him before the numbers came into focus. Gasps, then thunderous applause.
46.47
Zen stood motionless for a moment, genuinely surprised despite his confidence. That was significantly faster than even he had expected. In his previous life, he hadn't run that fast until college.
The announcer's voice cut through the crowd noise, confirming what the scoreboard showed.
"Official results for the men's 400 meter dash final. In first place, with a time of 46.47 seconds, NEW REGIONAL RECORD, Zen Cross of Westridge High School!"
The crowd erupted again, but the announcer wasn't finished.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been informed that 46.47 is not just a regional record. That time currently stands as the fastest high school 400 meter time in the entire nation this year. And this is only regionals, not even the state championship yet!"
The statement sent another shock wave through the facility. Coaches pulled out phones, verifying the claim. Officials huddled, double-checking timing systems. The other finalists approached Zen with expressions of disbelief and respect.
"What the actual hell?" Thompson said, shaking his head. "That's not human, man."
Rodriguez extended his hand. "Congratulations. That was... I don't even know what to call it."
From the stands, Zen could hear Trey's unmistakable voice. "HE'S NUMBER ONE IN THE COUNTRY! THAT'S MY BOY RIGHT THERE! NUMBER ONE!"
Coach Dormer reached him, normally composed face showing pure shock. "46.47," he repeated, as if saying it aloud might make it more believable. "That's not just good, that's historic."
Zen allowed himself a small smile. "Felt right today."
"Felt right?" Coach echoed incredulously. "You just ran the fastest time in America. At a regional meet."
DING
[PERFORMANCE ANALYSIS]
[PERSONAL BEST: 46.47]
[NATIONAL STATUS: #1 CURRENT U.S. HIGH SCHOOL RANKING]
[PERFORMANCE CLASSIFICATION: ELITE NATIONAL LEVEL]
Media representatives appeared, requesting quick interviews. Coaches from other schools approached, offering congratulations and barely concealed recruiting interest. The entire dynamics of the meet had shifted with one race.
His parents made their way to the track, his mother openly crying, his father wearing an expression of pride mixed with knowing validation. They'd recognized his potential in this timeline, but even they seemed shocked by the magnitude of this breakthrough.
"I knew you were special," his mother whispered as she hugged him. "But this is beyond what even we imagined."
His father's assessment was more technical. "Perfect execution from start to finish. Not a single wasted movement."
The medal ceremony proceeded with an atmosphere of continued disbelief. Standing on the top podium, gold medal around his neck, Zen could see phones throughout the crowd, undoubtedly sharing news of the performance across social media and track websites.
As he stepped down from the podium, Coach Dormer was deep in conversation with D'Angelo. They broke apart as Zen approached, but their serious expressions suggested important discussions.
D'Angelo stepped forward. "Congratulations," he said simply. "That was elite-level execution."
Coming from him, the assessment meant everything.
"Thanks," Zen replied. "Looking forward to the relay."
D'Angelo nodded. "About that. I've been talking with Coach. We need to adjust our strategy."
Before Zen could respond, Coach Dormer gestured for them to follow him away from the crowd. When they reached a quieter area, D'Angelo continued.
"I've always anchored our relay," he began. "But what you just did changes everything."
Coach Dormer nodded. "D'Angelo came to me after your race. His suggestion, not mine."
"You need to anchor," D'Angelo stated flatly. "46.47 is national championship level. I'm good, but you just ran the fastest time in the country."
"You're sure?" Zen asked, genuinely surprised by the senior's gesture.
"It's not about ego," D'Angelo replied. "It's about winning. Andre leadoff, Diego second, me third, you anchor. That gives us our best shot."
Coach watched the exchange with evident respect for both athletes. "D'Angelo suggested it immediately. Sign of true leadership."
"I can handle any leg," D'Angelo continued. "But we need the fastest 400 runner in America bringing it home. With you anchoring, we can compete with anybody."
Zen nodded, understanding the significance of the moment. D'Angelo was the unquestioned team leader, the regional legend. For him to voluntarily give up the anchor position represented genuine championship mentality.
"I appreciate it," Zen said. "Let's make it count."
D'Angelo extended his hand. "Just get us to the top of that podium."
As they returned to the team area, Zen could see the energy had completely transformed. Westridge athletes from other events had gathered, drawn by the historic performance. Trey was still gesticulating wildly to anyone who would listen.
"FASTEST IN THE WHOLE COUNTRY!" he exclaimed as Zen approached. "BRO! YOU'RE FAMOUS! MileSplit already posted about you. FloTrack too!"
Andre and Diego looked equally stunned. "Coach just told us about the relay change," Andre said. "Makes perfect sense after that performance."
"We couldn't ask for a better anchor," Diego added. "National leader bringing us home."
DING
[RELAY ANALYSIS WITH REVISED ORDER]
[PROJECTED TIME WITH OPTIMAL EXCHANGES: 3:14-3:16]
[REGIONAL RECORD: 3:17.82]
[CHAMPIONSHIP WINNING PROBABILITY: 92%]
Throughout the evening, Zen noticed the shift in how people approached him. Competitors who had barely acknowledged him now nodded with respect. Coaches watched his warm-down routine with professional interest. Officials made small talk, clearly wanting to be able to say they'd spoken with him.
This was how it started. The recognition that preceded expectations.
Later that night, as the team gathered for a celebratory dinner, D'Angelo sat beside Zen.
"You altered the landscape today," he said quietly, while the others chatted excitedly. "Running 46.47 at regionals puts a target on your back for states and beyond."
"I know," Zen replied, thinking of his previous life and the pressure of elite competition.
"But you can handle it," D'Angelo continued, more statement than question. "You race like someone who's been here before."
Zen chose his words carefully. "Good coaching and preparation."
D'Angelo studied him for a moment, not entirely convinced but not pushing further. "Whatever it is, I'm glad you're on our team. Tomorrow's relay just became the most anticipated event of the championships."
As the dinner wound down and the team prepared to return to the hotel, Coach Dormer pulled Zen aside.
"I've been coaching for twenty years," he said. "Never seen anything like what you did today. Not at the high school level."
"Thanks, Coach."
"You understand what this means?" Coach asked. "46.47 as a freshman? That puts you on a completely different trajectory. College coaches will be calling. National teams will be monitoring your development. The expectations will be enormous."
Zen nodded. "One race at a time."
Coach smiled. "That's the right answer. And tomorrow's race is about the team. Show them you can win for others, not just yourself."
DING
[DAY ASSESSMENT: HISTORIC]
[NATIONAL LEADING PERFORMANCE: ESTABLISHED]
[RECOVERY STATUS: 89% AND IMPROVING]
[TOMORROW'S RELAY: CHAMPIONSHIP OPPORTUNITY]
As Zen prepared for sleep, his phone buzzed with notifications. Track websites posting about his performance. Messages from unknown numbers, likely college coaches finding ways around contact rules. The machinery of elite track was already mobilizing around him.
In his previous life, he'd experienced this much later, after years of development. This time, it was happening in his freshman year of high school. The possibilities seemed limitless.
Tomorrow's relay would be another opportunity to shine. But this time, as part of a team. The anchor role carried special responsibility, one he'd held many times in his previous life on the biggest stages.
With D'Angelo's selfless leadership and the team's newfound confidence, they had legitimate national-level potential. The 46.47 had changed everything, converting regional ambitions to national aspirations overnight.
Zen closed his eyes, already visualizing the relay exchanges, the final straightaway, the team celebration. Individual glory was wonderful, but team success brought different satisfaction. Tomorrow would bring that opportunity.
The national leading time was just the beginning.