“From the moment I stepped on to the track for the final meet in Berlin on August 19, 2009, I have been vilified and persecuted. My accomplishments since have been celebrated, yes, but it is hard to think of another athlete at the elite level who has endured as much scrutiny and psychological abuse from sports governing bodies, other competitors, and the media as I have. It has affected me in ways I cannot describe, although I will try.

“I didn’t do well in the event. I came in fourth and to this day, I don’t know what happened except to say I couldn’t find the zone. I didn’t yet understand that racing wasn’t just about being fast, it was also about strategizing and quieting the mind. I was used to running alone, my only company at times just cows and sheep and goats. I was used to running in South Africa. I couldn’t yet control my nerves. I resolved to learn and never lose again.

“On the podium, I remember I kissed that silver medal. It wasn’t a gold, but it might as well have been. I had worked so hard for that one. I remember that moment, looking at the medal and still being amazed that I had almost given up halfway through the race.

“I was glad to hear Greg’s voice. Throughout the years, he’d never given up on me. By then, we were more like daughter and father than lawyer and client. “Greg, my man. I’m good. I’m happy. I just qualified for Beijing. I’m figuring things out but I’m feeling better.” “Well, I have news that will make you feel even better, Caster,” Greg said. “The IAAF lost a case about their hyperandrogenism regulations.

““I told you I wasn’t going to make it this time, uncle. But I’m going to get you and the Nike people a gold medal at the Olympics next year.” Masilo smiled. He’d become a great friend by this point, more like a member of my family than the executive responsible for my sponsorship at a global company. “You do your thing, Caster. Rest now and you come back stronger next year. We are here for you. We believe in you.