It’s 6:14 a.m. on a late-summer day, and the track at Florida Atlantic University is shrouded in darkness, save for the faint beams of light bouncing from the waistbands of three joggers, dutifully logging their steps before the world awakens. They move at a casual pace, thoroughly oblivious to the athletic marvel in their midst.

“I can clock 60,” boasts a voice in the darkness, and then he’s gone—a hulking silhouette slicing through the predawn shadows.

“They ain’t ready for you!” barks another voice. “They ain’t ready for you!”

Less than 60 seconds later, Zion Williamson is back where he started, darting across an invisible finish line, having easily beaten his goal for his last quarter-mile dash of the morning. “That’s elite!” enthuses a third voice—his stepfather and coach, Lee Anderson.

It’s an important marker for the young Pelicans star as he makes his way back from a broken right foot and a lost season. It’s a remarkable feat for anyone, period. But the South Florida sun won’t rise for another 49 minutes on this September morning, and the joggers and late-arriving soccer players have no idea what they just missed. The only real witnesses are Williamson’s personal trainer, a few family members and a reporter.