The first 200 meters went by, followed by 250 meters, and then 300. Hudson-Smith still had the lead and looked good and fast, but Darius knew what was coming.
By the time the runners hit 300 meters, Hall began to move.
Darius became tense. The American in Lane Eight was now charging toward the finish line and was in fourth place but was closing in on Hudson-Smith with each step.
"Dude!" Darius exclaimed, "Then again... Dude!"
He was so excited, he could not stay seated on the couch cushion. Tobias laughed and sipped his beer.
Hall had run 350 meters and was seriously pursuing Hudson-Smith, who was losing ground with his form deteriorating and his arms wildly flailing.
Darius could not contain himself any further. He jumped off the couch with his fists pumping.
"USA! USA! USA!"
He bounced on the couch as it bounced with him. Tobias laughed and steadied his beer.
"Are you rooting for Quincy or Michael?" Both were Americans and both were racing.
Darius tilted his head, as babies naturally do when processing information. He thought about his answer to the question. "Quincy!" He shouted. However, instead of saying "Quincy," it came out "Kinky!"
Tobias laughed. "Quincy? You mean the guy in Lane Eight?"
Darius nodded vigorously.
On television, the final 50 meters had begun and Hall was catching up with Hudson-Smith. Darius totally lost all control.
"KINKY! KINKY! KINKY!"
He flailed his arms jumping off the couch while Tobias steadied him so he wouldn't fall as he continued to shake with laughter.
Hall crossed the finish line first. 43.40 seconds. Olympic Champion.
Darius screamed with the high-pitched shriek of a toddler, then ran a lap around the coffee table with his arms stretched wide, as if he was flying.
"KINKY WIN! KINKY WIN!"
Tobias watched as his son ran erratically around the room. He shook his head. "Your mom is going to love hearing about this."
On television, Hall collapsed onto his back on the purple track, his arms and legs spread wide, as if making snow angels.
Darius stopped running and looked at the screen, then plopped down on the carpet and spread his arms and legs, attempting to make snow angels on the carpet while giggling.
Tobias's laughter was now louder, with a deeper tone. "You are something else, kid."
Tobias shut off the TV as the race coverage transitioned to post-race interviews and preparations for the medal ceremony. Tobias scooped up Darius. "Okay, track star. Time for bed."
"No!" Darius protested weakly, however, the protest was weak due to the fact that he was extremely tired and the excitement had fully drained the energy from his toddler body.
"Yes," Tobias replied and carried him upstairs.
The evening routine was brief. A bath, pajamas, and getting him into his toddler bed with the race car bedding.
"Goodnight, Darius." Tobias kissed his forehead. "Dream about running."
He turned off the light and left the door open slightly as his footsteps faded away down the hall.
Darius was lying in the dark of his small bedroom decorated with cartoon race cars and a cartoon cheetah poster that read "Fast!" in bubble letters. His mind slowly caught up with what had transpired.
I watched that race two times. Once while dying. Once while alive.
There was a vast difference between the first time when he was paralyzed, dying, and alone, and the second time when he was healthy, had a loving father, and had many years of a future ahead of him. The first time had been the last few minutes of a life that was squandered, whereas the second time was the beginning of a new one.
He was three years old, therefore he would have to wait until he was much older to begin training and competing and to run as he wanted to. However, he did have those years, which was more than he had previously.
Tobias was a kind and patient man, and he enjoyed laughing at Darius's antics and supporting Darius's passion for track. "Your mom will love hearing about this." His mother was an Olympic athlete, which was an incredible coincidence for a random selection.
Is this the "Optimal Insertion Point" the system referred to?
Being born into a family that understands athletics with a mother who has competed at the Olympic level means having access to coaching and training and knowledge of the sport. This makes sense as a strategic placement.
However, there would be a lot of waiting since he was only three years old and was not able to run very well without stumbling and could not yet express complete sentences. His mind knew technique, strategy, and training, but his body could not yet perform these techniques.
GOATs aren't developed overnight, though. He had time; he had more time than he had ever had before. And when he was old enough and when his body could finally execute what his mind knew, he would be ready.
Quincy Hall just won Olympic Gold and was making snow angels on the track in sheer delight. One day, that will be me. I just need to wait a little bit longer.
As Darius drifted off to sleep, his eyes grew heavy and his toddler body required rest. His mind was still racing with thoughts and ideas, but it was fragmenting and fading. His mother would return home shortly and he would watch her run and learn from her and develop and train and compete.
Becoming a GOAT.
His eyes shut tight and his breathing became even and consistent as he fell asleep. There was no user interface for the system, no prompts, just a three year old boy drifting off to sleep.
And in his dreams, he ran.
August 12th. Darius awoke knowing today was the day his mother would return home.
Since he watched her win bronze on television on August 9th in the women's 10,000 meter event, he had been waiting.
He had sat on the couch with Tobias watching with his analytical eye and saw her not only as "Mom," but as a runner for the first time.
She had finished third, earning a bronze medal after completing twenty five laps around the track. He could see that she wanted gold based on the look of determination in her jawline and the way her eyes focused beyond the celebrations, but she had still hugged the other medalists and stood proudly on that podium.
Bronze Medal at the Olympics indicated world-class performance. His mother was an elite distance runner and he was going to learn from her. The system had chosen an excellent scenario.
Downstairs, he could hear the sound of Tobias doing his thing with the vacuum cleaner, opening and closing cabinets, etc. His father was cleaning.
Darius descended from his toddler bed and padded down the stairs wearing his pajamas.
Tobias was in the living room with the vacuum and stopped it. "Hey Buddy. Today is a special day."
"Mama Home?"
"In a couple of hours. She arrives at 2 PM." Tobias checked his phone for what was likely his twentieth check-in that morning. "Her flight is on schedule."
Darius wanted to assist in some manner but his body didn't allow him to.
He attempted to put the magazines on the coffee table straight and ended up knocking them to the floor. He then tried to fluff the couch pillows and made them asymmetrical.
Tobias smiled and gently steered him towards drawing his mother a picture. "She would love that."
Darius sat at his low table with crayons and paper and attempted to draw a runner. It came out as a stick figure with scribbles, but he knew what it was supposed to represent: his mother running and winning.
Tobias was creating a Welcome Home sign on a large poster board with "Welcome Home Elena!" written in vibrant colors. He had also drawn a bronze medal next to her name.
"Want to Help?" Tobias asked.
Darius took the larger marker that Tobias offered him, although it was larger than his hand. He added additional scribbles to the sign that may have represented flowers or explosions, it was difficult to tell.
"Great job," Tobias stated, implying he meant it.
The remainder of the morning crept by while Darius glanced repeatedly at the clock, although he was unable to tell time yet. He simply knew that the numbers changed and his mother had not returned yet.
Tobias prepared their lunch with sandwiches that they ate rapidly. He then checked his phone once more. "Okay, let's go pick her up."
Tobias brought out the welcome home sign as he walked out the front door.