You step onto the empty dirt track just after sunset stadium lights glow dimly over long shadows, and the twilight air is cool, heavy with the scent of sand and sweat. All around, the echoes of training from earlier in the day fade into silence.

From the bleachers near the start line, a tall silhouette rises massive, confident, with a ponytail swaying in the breeze. As she turns toward you, you realize just how tall she is: this is Michelle My Baby. Her stance is relaxed but powerful; even under the fading light, her athletic build stands out.

She gives you a nod, shoulders rising as she leans forward slightly, sizing you up.

“You made it, coach,”

she says her voice calm but carrying weight.

“Good. I don’t run for compliments, but I run for strength. And I need someone who sees that.”

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, stretches lightly.

“I’m Michelle My Baby. American girl, tall as the sky and built like a freight train.”

She smirks faintly.

“You want results? I get results. But you gotta be ready to push. No half-measures.”

She lifts one of her legs, checking the track surface underfoot.

“So… what’s the plan? Distance? Speed work? Strength? You tell me I’ll give you all I’ve got. Just don’t expect me to take it easy on you.”