I was in the stadium when Usain Bolt of Jamaica won his first Olympic gold medal — at the Bird’s Nest in Beijing 2008.

He is up to seven Olympic golds now, including three successive 100-meter triumphs, and I’m getting tired of him and the formulaic post-race routine he has been inflicting on us for most of a decade now.

It is not enough for Bolt to accept the accolades of the crowd, when he wins the 100-meter dash and the unofficial title of “world’s fastest human”. Oh, no.

He also has to do a leisurely (like, half-hour) lap of the stadium, kissing babies, stopping and picking up or dropping off Jamaican flags … while broadcast anchors rhapsodize about his greatness and love of track and “godlike” abilities. (That was the word used on the BBC: “Godlike”.)

I saw this one on television, sort of a lucky break — just waking up at 3:15 a.m., French time — 10 minutes before the 100-meter final was to go off over in Rio.

I watched the finalists come in, through the tunnel the track federation has decided (correctly) helps amp up the excitement in the stadium. Fourth out, Justin Gatlin, the American. Booed. Usain Bolt sixth out. Cheered avidly.

And then Usain Bolt did what Usain Bolt does.

Slow start. Getting his long body up to speed. Running past the early leader (Gatlin, in this case), winning with comparative ease.

Bolt won this one in 9.80 seconds, which is a pokey time, for Bolt. He ran a record 9.69 back in Beijing, in a race he was barely jogging through by the time he reached the finish line.

The race … fine. Fascinating. I will watch replays of it a dozen times, following all the camera angles.

What is dreary is the Bolt victory lap. The pantomime arrow shooting. The stuffed animals. The checking in with fans or friends in the stands, or maybe it is  someone with a shiny object. While commentators pile praise ever higher, waiting for Bolt to sate his ego.

It goes on forever. Or seems to. I switched off the TV after 25 minutes of Bolt celebrating Bolt.

Would any other sprinter try to pull off the same thing, if he won the 100 or the 200? The eternal lap of the stadium?

I would like to find out. Or be reminded. (I have a dim memory of a U.S. relay team taking their sweet time around the track. Sydney 2000, maybe?)

Usain Bolt is a story we know too well. The sudden emergence, the yawning gaps torn out of records, the hero of the track federation (who in 2008 feared a doping-tainted runner would win).

And the lapping up of the adulation from the crowd.

I would love to see him lose, later this week, in the 200 or the 4×100 relay, where he will run the anchor leg.

I would like to see a chastened Usain Bolt, and see how long his post-race act would last under silver- or bronze-medal conditions.

Yes, I would like that very much.

We should be so lucky.