THE SUN HOVERS over Hodges Stadium in Jacksonville, Florida, in late May 2021, when the men's 200-meter race is set to begin. As the sprinters await their start time, Erriyon Knighton sits perched atop a white cone bearing his lane number.
Knighton, who is 17 and has been a professional runner for only four months, isn't mentioned by the commentators before the race begins. The focus is on American Trayvon Bromell and Great Britain's Adam Gemili and Zharnel Hughes.
The starting pistol fires and all eyes are on Bromell, the favorite to win the American Track League's Duval County Challenge. But coming out of the turn and down the homestretch, Knighton pushes the hardest, breaks away and stuns the crowd with a first-place finish. He's clocked at 20.11, topping Usain Bolt's under-18 record (20.13).
"I felt good," Knighton says now. "I knew there was more in store -- and I broke my world record again after that."
Knighton went on to reset the under-18 record seven times and did the same with Bolt's under-20 record 13 times, earning headlines that named him the fastest teenager in the world and Bolt's successor.
Now, at 20 years old, the former prodigy is looking to medal for the first time at the Paris Olympic Games after failing to reach the podium at the Tokyo Olympics three years ago.
Despite the hype, two world titles and an Olympics under his belt, Knighton has taken a backseat to Noah Lyles, who has firmly held the top spot in the men's 200 for more than four years. He's also faced other challenges on the road to this summer's Paris Olympics, including a failed drug test that was later overturned.
Knighton is still considered one of the fastest men in the world and is patiently waiting for his return to the spotlight. Right now, he's focused on his two biggest goals: improving his speed and taking home a gold medal at the Games.
KNIGHTON WAS BORN in Jesup, Georgia, in 2004, but moved with his mother to Tampa while he was in elementary school. He was an active child who always needed to burn off energy, which is why he fell in love with football at 6 years old.
On summer days, Knighton and his friends spent countless hours playing backyard football. He played Pop Warner in elementary and middle school and by high school, he became known as a speedy wide receiver who loved hitting.
"He was an aggressive blocker," says Earl Garcia, the head football coach at Hillsborough High. Knighton racked up a handful of unnecessary roughness penalties his freshman year. "He enjoyed blocking so much, which is an oddity for receivers in high school."
In 2019, when his first season ended, Garcia encouraged Knighton to run track to stay in shape during the offseason. Knighton joined the team but admits it was a difficult transition. He was fast, but he needed to learn how to run. "It was a whole 'nother level of conditioning," he says.
Knighton eventually nailed down the basics and began turning heads at high school meets. That year, Jonathan Terry, an opposing track coach, caught word of how fast the teenager was. As Terry warmed up with his team at a quad meet, he was surprised when Knighton called him out and said, "I'm about to beat your boys in the 4x8."
Terry loved Knighton's confidence but questioned whether Knighton could win his fourth event of the day. Somehow, Knighton managed to back up his trash talk, and all Terry could do was laugh.
"If you challenge him, he's going to do it," Terry says. "Nine times out of 10, he'll probably prove you wrong."
Later that year, Terry took Knighton under his wing and became his track coach. Knighton showed up every day and was always on time -- no matter how hard the training became. Football practice in the morning and track in the evenings.
He eventually earned the nickname "Knightmare" in AAU circuits because of the scowls on kids' faces when they realized they would be racing against him. "You'll see the kids and they're all stressed out, like, 'Ugh, I gotta run against him,'" Terry says.
The closer Knighton and Terry became, the more Knighton improved. With his family's blessing, Knighton moved into Terry's home, which was closer to the school and track. Terry became more than a mentor and coach, he became family.
"It was like a big brother to little brother, just trying to keep him focused on the task at hand," Terry says. "Sitting down and hanging out with him, playing video games, and talking trash to each other.
"It was a good transition."
THE NEW PARTNERSHIP thrived and Terry watched Knighton become more skilled every day.
By August 2020, Knighton and Terry traveled to the AAU Junior Olympics in Satellite Beach, Florida. Knighton and Terry prepared for a moment like this, just as they had any other meet, but Terry couldn't predict how well Knighton would do this time around.
Knighton got out of the blocks and by the time he hit the home stretch, he was a blur. Knightmare was back.
"You can almost see Erriyon peel the curve off of the track for how fast he ran that curve," Terry said. "You could see the immediate separation. You could see everybody became an immediate fan of him.
"You could just see him becoming a star."
Knighton ran the 200 in 20.33 seconds, setting a new Junior Olympics record. His performance made his team believe that Knighton was ready for the higher level. They initially thought he should prioritize his education and go to college, but now, it was clear Knighton was more than capable of holding his own and competing with the best.
On Jan. 13, 2021, Knighton announced he would go pro. His statement was a lot like Knighton's personality -- calm, relaxed and impactful. Knighton was in Tampa when he posted the news to his social media accounts.
"At that point, I really didn't care what nobody else had to say," Knighton says. "I did it for me. I didn't do it for nobody else."
After signing his Adidas contract, Knighton bought two cars: a Kia Stinger for himself and a Honda Accord for his mom. Next, he'd need to find a coach who trains professional athletes and Olympic runners, something Terry felt no qualms about.
In February 2021, Knighton's manager, Ramon Clay, introduced him to Mike Holloway, the head coach of the men's track team at the University of Florida.
At the university's track, Knighton performed a 30-meter acceleration test in the grass. As soon as he took off, Holloway looked at everyone in disbelief. "What was that?" he asked. "I couldn't believe it -- the power he put into the track."
Holloway agreed to coach Knighton, who was fast but needed to make major technical adjustments to his form. Terry then transitioned from Knighton's AAU coach to a more supportive role in Knighton's life. They're still close, and Terry travels to see Knighton's biggest races.
"I'm just blessed to be a part of it and to see it," Terry says now. "The kids from my AAU team, we're all big fans. ... This is just great to see."
The switch from Terry to Holloway was an easy transition. The more coach Holloway and Knighton worked together, the more they learned about each other on and off the track. Their relationship is now more like father and son, and Knighton helps remind his coach to always be himself.
"I'm going to let the chips fall, and I'm going to fight every day," Holloway says now. "Erriyon's the same way. That's why we get along."
But going pro meant Knighton needed to give up his athletic eligibility in high school, meaning his junior year was his final season playing football. He told himself football could be his backup plan, but deep down, his heart was set on becoming as fast as he possibly could.
The decision wasn't easy, and he walked away from several scholarship offers to play football, including from schools such as Tennessee, Florida and Florida State.
"I wanted to be an NFL player," Knighton says now. "It could've happened but I just chose a different route.
"What's not to like about it? I'm still a professional athlete."
KNIGHTON STARTS HIS off day with Pilates at a studio in Gainesville in late December. He cracks jokes with Clay before beginning his hourlong workout. Knighton tells Clay to join the session, but he immediately declines. A few minutes later, Clay is on the ground, complaining and laughing as he stretches with him.
When I ask his circle what type of person Knighton is, I get similar responses: goofy, a jokester, kind, caring, giving -- and stubborn.
Two years ago, Knighton felt excruciating pain in his lower abdomen. He tossed and turned and was unable to sleep. The pain became so unbearable that he went to the emergency room, where tests revealed an inflamed appendix.
Doctors gave him two options: have surgery to remove his appendix or take medicine and go home. Knighton was adamant about taking the medicine and toughing it out so he could continue training -- something Clay strongly opposed.
Clay laughs about how much convincing it took to change Knighton's mind. After a tiresome back and forth, Knighton reluctantly agreed to have surgery. "He knows that everyone has his best interests at heart, but he's 19, so he's going to give some resistance," Clay says with a laugh.
If Knighton worried about the time he missed practicing while recovering, he never mentioned it. It's how he approaches his work. Once he's locked in mentally, everything else falls away. The track is his sanctuary, and even on his worst days, his worries are left behind.
"It's mental," Knighton says. "If you're having a bad day, then you're thrown off or overthinking it. Not thinking about it is the key."
The next morning, a drizzle begins as Knighton readjusts his positioning. Practice is still in full swing. The banter and laughs echo through the stadium as Knighton jokingly becomes his own coach and tells Holloway what he thinks would be best for his setup. Holloway stands off to the side with a smile, shaking his head.
Every moment he trains ahead of the Games, he thinks of his Olympic debut and how he failed to reach the podium. He was 17, with less experience, and because of the COVID pandemic, he had to race without his support system: Terry, Holloway and Clay.
"They've been there from the start and they're a part of the team," Knighton says. "If something's ever wrong, we know how to talk about it."
However, his journey to Paris was in jeopardy after he was suspended during the first few weeks of the 2024 track season.
IN MARCH, KNIGHTON TESTED positive for trenbolone, a banned steroid, and was suspended from the sport for three months. Still, he showed up to practice with his coaches nearly every day.
On June 19, an arbitration panel determined that contaminated oxtails caused Knighton's test result. The substance is commonly used in livestock to stimulate muscle growth. His suspension was immediately lifted, just days before the Olympic trials began.
"I mean, in my heart, you know, I never did nothing wrong," Knighton later told reporters.
A week later, Knighton competed in his first and most important race of the year, which helped him secure a spot on the Olympic team. In the 200, Knighton left trials with two first-place finishes and a third-place finish in the finals.
"When you listen to your coach, you can pretty much do anything you want to," Knighton told reporters.
"I'm really grateful."
As others celebrated, Knighton remained composed. During the prerace interview, he stood with his Team USA teammates Kenny Bednarek and Lyles. All three qualified for the Paris Olympics together.
Even though they both represent Team USA, Lyles remains Knighton's biggest competition. Despite performing in Lyles' shadow for the past four years, Knighton doesn't have a problem waiting his turn.
"I just think about it as everybody is going to have their time, and you really don't know when the next person's time is going to come. ... I'm just waiting it out. It's only a matter of time before it's my year, and when it's my year, it's going to be over for everybody.
"I'm just waiting my turn."
He cracked a smile as he walked off and added his name to a replica Eiffel Tower with the other sprinters who qualified for the Olympics.
Knighton would be ecstatic if he medaled in Paris, but he can't quite express his feelings.
"Just to even get on the podium means a lot," Knighton says with a shrug. "Not a lot of people get to do that in their lifetime.
"And I get a chance to do it."