A Flash in the Night

Raw power unleashed

Track and Field still embodies the basic essence of a sporting contest with its straight forward rules and objective measurements. You have to run and cross a line first, throw an implement as far as you can or jump higher or further than anyone else. No time outs, no coaches storming out of the dugout and by and large no protective gear.

Tonight the reason most everyone came was to see the coronation of the world’s fastest man. The race is put at the end of the session because most people lose interest after the 100 meter sprint is run. Tonight the crowd anticipates the result; Usain Bolt from Jamaica should win. He has the right credentials. He looked great in the trials, but the 100 meters is well known for crippling runners with high expectations; dropping them to their knees in a split second with intense searing pain stabbing the back of their leg without warning as muscle fibers tear apart. The most experienced runners know that they have to stay loose and not force the tempo. The 100 meters is all out, all the way. A brain can’t keep up with the muscle memory at that speed and if it tries to manage the surging rhythm the result is catastrophic as the powerful quadriceps in the front of the leg literally rip asunder the weaker hamstring muscles.

Bolt is tall for a world class sprinter. At 6’ 4” his long legs should hinder his ability to accelerate in the first 30 meters. But as with most world champions he is an exception. The runners take their mark and the gun fires. He is quickly out of the blocks and unleashes an anaerobic explosion of stored-up chemical energy. He runs straight and true as his tall frame begins to rise up and soon he towers above the sea of rapidly pumping arms and legs.

The "race is over"

By 50 meters he is in full stride and in command of an overdrive not possessed by any other sprinter. In a race that is normally won by one hundredths of a second, he will leave no one wondering tonight about who the fastest man is. At 85 meters his challengers are in another race and he knows it. Bolt is by himself, exhilarated, with arms outstretched like a great bird. He thumps his chest once and glides across the line effortlessly without a grimace of strain or uncertainty. The world record is reset and the champion takes a victory lap as everyone in the stadium joins his fan club for the night. Pure speed translated in any language; pure joy.

Stepping into History