The gun goes off, and after seven seconds I figure that I’ve seen everything I need to see.

The 60-meter dash is the shortest possible race, but one competitor easily separated himself from the field, and it is with little surprise that I note his name atop the overall scoreboard through five events.

Bryan Clay—the best athlete in the world that you’ve never heard of—seems well on his way to another win in the heptathlon, a baby step in his return to international prominence.

Despite gracing the front of a Wheaties box, Clay remains relatively unknown outside the track world. Indeed, the fact that little more than 25 people have come out to watch the man who earned silver and gold medals for the decathlon in the last two Olympics cannot be attributed solely to an uninformed Harvard community. After all, the meet is open to the public.

But I’m not lamenting the fact that Clay’s name doesn’t draw a crowd. If anything, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the “World’s Greatest Athlete” would have time to chat the day before the meet. And as I quickly learned, Clay is much more than even that title suggests.

At Harvard, we are accustomed to visits from the world’s most accomplished individuals. Although Olympians don’t stop by as often as Nobel Laureates, Clay’s pedigree seems fitting—in addition to his medals in Athens and Beijing, the multi-event star is the reigning world indoor champion, and, despite his compact frame, boasts the best discus throw ever in a world decathlon (55.87 meters).

None of these feats are lost on Clay, who shed the humility act that so many use to stonewall reporters.

“I feel like I can call myself one of the best decathletes that the U.S. has ever seen, and I think I can be pretty proud of that fact,” says the owner of the second-best heptathlon and decathlon scores in the nation’s history. “And I’ve got a chance to go and possibly win a third medal at a third Olympic games…and that’s something that no decathlete has ever done before.”

Of course, there is a reason that a third medal has proven so elusive for Clay’s predecessors.

Like NFL running backs, decathletes decline quickly under the strain of such rigorous competition. But Clay, who turned 30 last month, has a chance to defy this tradition. After all, the decathlete scored a 130.40 on the Nike SPARQ test—a sport-specific evaluation designed to determine overall athleticism. Clay’s score in the football version was the highest ever, leaving the NFL’s most electrifying stars, such as Super Bowl-bound Reggie Bush (93.38), in the dust.

So whether or not Clay has the longevity to stand out in London, the decathlete has already proven himself among the globe’s best.

My colleague Dixon asks Clay about his take on the title, and I eagerly anticipate his answer. Surely someone with so much confidence would show some pride in the distinction. But to my surprise, Clay is unimpressed:

“It’s just a fun title to have, that’s how I look at it,” he says. “But does it really change anything? No. I always tell people, I still have to go home, I still have to change diapers, I still have to take out the trash…and I can’t act like an ass to all my friends.”

“So yeah, it’s cool, and it’s an accomplishment,” Clay continues, “but it’s just something that I’ve done, it’s not who I am.”

At this point I’m confused. Clay has spoken at length about “rewriting history books” with a third Olympic medal, and yet would balk at the idea that these efforts define him. But as Clay continues talking, I begin to understand where athletics stand among his priorities.