Usain Bolt is the fastest human in the world. But is he the greatest athlete? What makes an athlete great? Is it the number of gold medals, dominance in the sport, breaking records? Is it based on some historical defining moments? For example, Roger Bannister’s (the English middle distance runner) running the first sub-four-minute mile in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics. Or, does an athlete become great when he or she transcends the game, becoming bigger than the sport?

Take Muhammad Ali, who is regarded as one of the greatest athletes. Although Ali was three times world boxing champion and gold medallist, boxing aficionados will tell you, Sugar Ray Robinson, who lost only one of his professional 131 professional fights, was a more complete fighter. But Ali’s athletic feats were only a part of the whole. His charisma and quick wit charmed the world. He was an inspiration to other boxers. He shaped the times in which he lived. He influenced the voice of the Vietnam anti-war movement in the 1960s when he refused to serve and was banned from boxing before being reinstated. He hated injustice. He commanded the presence of presidents. He was involved in peacekeeping trips, fund-raising efforts for Parkinson’s disease research, and supported UNICEF, Special Olympics, and other charitable organisations.

Outstanding natural abilities and exceptional talents make Bolt the consummate sprinter he is. With a height of 6ft 5 ins (the tallest sprinter in world history, and an average length of 2.44 metres in his running step, compared to 5ft 11ins Tyson Gay’s average of 2.20 metres), Bolt is virtually unbeatable. Built like a tall, lanky, long distance runner, his long strides and high-velocity sprinting techniques — a rare combination — we can see why. Sprinters at even a tender age, as children, easily outrun their friends before they started to receive formal training. Nature topples nurture.

Putting his abilities into perspective, let us not forget that running is a natural form of terrestrial locomotion and can hardly be regarded as a sport. In racing, it then becomes a sport — albeit requiring few skills, some might disagree, perhaps subtle knee and leg movements. And running is universal — anyone with limbs, real or artificial, from 350lbs Miss Fatty Boom Boom to one-year-old Johnny, can run.

Did Bolt derive less satisfaction from his wins knowing his huge genetic advantage was partly the reason for his victories? We don’t know, and he probably won’t tell you. Conceivably, Novak Djokovic might derive more satisfaction and accomplishment in a bruising tennis match, where there is less genetic disparity between the players, and more skills needed to overcome his opponent.

For now, being dubbed “the fastest human”, Bolt may derive immense satisfaction and, to his admirers, this accolade will reverberate for years. For the future, for them, he will always remain the greatest. But for him, the accolades — the fastest and the greatest — may seem hollow. Was it too easy? Was it challenging enough? Will he become in his unsettled mind, dissatisfied and unfulfilled? Was greatness achieved? Does he have to be bigger than the sport in the wider sphere of life — doing acts of charity, selfless sacrifice, inspiring others, and simple gestures of kindness?

Now that Bolt plans to retire from the Olympics, his best may yet to come. Will he achieve more greatness or have greatness thrust upon him. Good luck, Usain Bolt.

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