Usain Bolt won the gold medal and the title of Fastest Man on the Planet, and still had time to destroy the world record set by himself a few months ago.

He is clearly a phenomenon: on a race dominated by short, stocky, muscular guys, he has long legs and long arms. Originally a 200m sprinter, Bolt only started practicing for the 100m less than a year ago. Yet his starting reaction, crucial in the shortest race of all, is on par with all the other elite runners. He accelerates like the others, but his top speed exceeds everybody else’s: when they couldn’t accelerate anymore and went to that blazing steady speed, Bolt kept gaining speed and increasing the space between them, finishing with a huge lead to the second place, only to shatter his own world record.

Yet I have to admit, it was scary. Not for the incredible time, or the huge difference between him and anyone else. But the ease in which he did it, flaring his arms in the last 10 meters and thumping his chest in anticipated celebration. It brought very bad memories of another guy that astonished the world with a gold medal, a shattered record, and an effortless sprint culminating with the precocious celebration:

I can only hope I’m wrong.