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go through Simon Smale Stade de France
(ABC – Australia) Time is a funny thing.
Sometimes you may feel like you have too much.
We all know the feeling. Hours wasted, exhausted, waiting for that moment, that thing you’ve been waiting for.
Or maybe there just isn’t enough time.
Suddenly, the long-awaited moment arrived, subtle and hesitant like a coal train moving at full speed.
This is the Olympics.
It usually takes four long years from these unforgettable moments to the end.
Four years of waiting.
That’s how Paris 100m sprint champion Noah Lyles feels.
After finishing seventh at the U.S. trials, Lyles missed out on Tokyo and is more determined than ever to achieve his goal of adding his name to the list of champions and claiming the crown left by Usain Bolt as the king of the 100/200 sprint.
After years of training, years of dreaming, before he knew it, he was standing on the starting blocks, his eyes fixed on the purple track. Seventy thousand pairs of eyes were focused on him and the other seven people, everyone holding their breath, waiting silently.
At this point, those hours begin to lengthen again, from being introduced to the audience to the starter taking control, a time of contemplation in near silence.
Then, a robotic voice blandly ordered the runners: “On your marks.”
More time. As my feet hit the block, the final seconds stretch out indefinitely.
Yet, this is where the best runners bend their times to their will.
This is the ultimate mind game.
For a race that takes 10 seconds or less to complete, a lot is accomplished before you even hit the track.
The hype, the posturing, the rhetoric.
This all has to happen before the race begins – there is no time at all from the start of the game until the end of the race.
That’s why the 100m remains the top event at the Olympics, and its winners are so acclaimed.
Is it curious that the shortest event on the show has such a huge impact?
No.
They are the fastest people on earth.
The Olympic motto – Faster. Higher. Stronger – is true.
Right at the front. All people want is faster, and with 100 meters, people get faster.
Its simplicity is its charm.
Run from this point to this point: no detours. No obstacles. No complications.
Sprinting isn’t something that only happens in dreams. Even a mad dash to a bus stop serves the same purpose as running on a track—albeit with slightly less riding.
The robot’s voice sounded again: “Set up.”
There was only a second before the gunshot, but the expectant pause felt like an eternity.
The crowd was silent for a few seconds, but the atmosphere was solemn. It was a rare pause as heavy as this in the world of sports – before roaring, people took a deep breath.
All my training, all the hours on the track and in the gym, all the frustrating hours on the treatment table were for this.
The gun went off.
Time, until then malleable, now becomes cruelly fixed, a metronome determining who will achieve the eternal glory that comes with an Olympic title.
But first the semi-finals. That will take some time.
In the first semi-final, Oblique Seville performed well, crossing the finish line in a personal best of 9.81 seconds.
As Sevilla approached the finish line, he glanced to his right and saw American Noah Lyles, who had a slow start but quickly crossed the line on his left, finishing in 9.83 seconds.
Lyles, a cheerful but brash 27-year-old who is hoping to win a sprint double in Paris, seemed a little surprised as he watched the yellow light flash past to his right.
The world champion has yet to cross the finish line first in any race at this Olympics.
In the second semifinal, Akani Simbine and Letsile Tebogo defeated reigning Olympic champion Lamont Marcell Jacobs.
Italy’s Jacobs, the surprise champion at the Tokyo Olympics, has had a difficult three years since that golden night in Japan.
Now he will wait to see if he can become one of the two non-automatic qualifiers who advance the fastest. He only needs to wait a few minutes to find out if he will make the final.
It felt like hours. Three years of waiting. Three years of work, condensed into 10 minutes. All the 29-year-old’s hopes rested on the efforts of others.
Jamaican Kishane Thompson emerged victorious in the next semifinal, winning in 9.80, ahead of American Fred Kerley (9.84).
Jacobs was relieved. His time was 9.92 seconds, good enough to qualify, while American Kenneth Bednarek finished in 9.93 seconds.
Two Jamaicans. Three Americans. One South African, one Botswana and one Italian.
There was just over an hour wait before the fateful date.
While the audience was experiencing the ups and downs of other finals, these sprinters were recovering backstage.
But before long, they were back on track, time flying as fast as their heartbeats.
It’s time for some mind games again.
Jacobs and Lyles had completely opposite styles, with the defending champion acting very calmly while the rookie performed brilliantly, jumping and stirring, getting the crowd excited.
The referee made them wait for quite a while, letting the audience’s emotions reach a climax and further increasing the tense atmosphere.
The shortest races obviously require the longest preparation time.
Finally, calm returned. The only sound was the drone of helicopters over the Stade de France.
Another delay.
Then the stadium erupted in cheers as the 70,000 spectators screamed for their lives, hoping to witness this life-changing moment.
They crossed the finish line in a single line. The scoreboard flashed “Photo”. Everyone watched intently.
The time is? 9.79.
A delay of a few seconds seemed like an eternity.
Time stood still. Thirty seconds of waiting.
Who is the winner? Noah Lyles.
What was the gap? 0.005 seconds behind Thompson and 0.02 seconds ahead of third-placed Kerrley.
The shortest race, the tiniest of margins.
The longest lasting glory.
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