“They were all good soccer players, but they knew they weren’t great. And most of them were playing for fun, they weren’t dreaming of getting on airplanes and being a professional athlete like I was. “Doesn’t matter what you say. You can’t understand,” I’d say to them. “I can see light with my running. All of you are here just chasing a ball around a field. Where’ that going to take you?” I had to be as harsh with them as they were being with me. I wanted to live in a proper city, travel the world, be known and appreciated for my talents.

“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.

“This was the first time I’d ever been to a shopping mall, the first time I’d even seen or been in an athletics-wear store. The store manager was sponsoring the athletes who were heading to the World Junior Championships. I’d never owned anything close to brand-new sports attire. They gave us a pair of sneakers, a pair of new track spikes, and a white and blue track suit. I was on top of the world.

“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.

“Michael’s program improved upon whatever I’d built running barefoot and alone on those dusty grounds in Limpopo as a teenager. His philosophy was, “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” “We’ll just keep doing what you’ve been doing, Caster,” he would say. He believed in stretching things out, moving along slowly, conditioning, and then when the body was ready, you hit it. He didn’t rush things; he didn’t push until he was absolutely sure. Michael was one of those coaches who didn’t believe in pain; he believed in slow buildups. Maria’s style was hardcore. If the plan for the day was to run 200s in 27s, then that is all we were doing, no matter what. Maria did not rest me well, but she made me a beast, she recreated in me an image of herself. Verster was different from them. Verster believed in gut feelings. Before every session, he would ask me how I felt that day. It was an interesting thing for me. And I could be honest with him. If I said, “I don’t feel like training hard today,” he would honor that.