SAINT-DENIS, France — As the men’s 400-meter finalists sped through their second turn at Stade de France late Wednesday, both Americans in the race already appeared to be out of contention, their dashes headed to no more than dashed dreams.
Quincy Hall, a 400-meter specialist who ranked among the favorites, made the next and final turn in fourth place. The leader, Great Britain’s Matthew Hudson-Smith, had opened more than a little space between them. “The race was anyone’s at that point,” Hall said afterward.
It sure didn’t look like it would be his.
As he churned toward the finish line, Hall decided to follow his coach’s most persistent instruction. It was simple to understand and far more difficult to execute. Keep driving. Keep driving. Get home. That, Hall said, was always their primary focus at the end of every practice.
Still, it did not seem like this night would conclude like so many other nights here, at the stadium where track stars are feted like French monarchs. Surely, another American couldn’t surge from behind, completing another comeback in a race only “epic” could describe. Like Noah Lyles in the 100. Like Cole Hocker in the 1,500. One night, during this most magical Olympics for U.S. track and field, the opposite had to happen. The law of averages, more or less.
And yet, there came Hall down the backstretch, not running so much as chugging, arms and legs flailing, face twisting into a grimace that said: This hurts. He soon caught two competitors in front of him, chug-chug-chugging down the backstretch.
Only Hudson-Smith remained ahead. He would not remain ahead for long.
Hall, 26, seemed to summon something beyond what he could comprehend over those final 100 meters. It wasn’t smooth, graceful or technically proficient. Hall endured, through guile and guts, and summoned just enough speed to do exactly as the other Americans had done. To come back—and win.
After decades of downturns, USATF entered these Games primed to make the boldest of statements. One question lingered: What kind of statement, exactly? Would this team, with stars and youth and personality, with balance and with depth, be the one that recalled those from earlier eras? Would it restore the sport to higher prominence in America? Or would it flop, making existing problems worse for expectations raised and not met?
Hoping for a medal haul is one thing. Expecting one, even better. Landing among the favorites to dominate on the purple track in Paris, better still. But they still had to come out here and perform.
Perform they did. Perform they have. Any fan of athletics in America who happened upon the track and field portion of these Olympics and didn’t see the surging should never be allowed to watch a sporting event again. Here, U.S. athletes have thrilled, awed, made statements, shaped legacies and—critical to all of that—won medals.
Hall’s race was more proof—and only the latest delivered in epic fashion. For the second consecutive night in Paris, an American had turned impossible into gold, beating a British favorite in the process.
Perhaps track fans should have seen this coming. The men’s 400-meter race had been described in recent months as underwhelming, the thin middle of a heavily anticipated 100- and 200-meter sandwich. In recent weeks, though, times continued dropping and each dip threatened to upend the established narrative.
In mid-July, at a Diamond League event just before the Olympics started, Hall turned in a 43.80-second lap, good for his best-ever 400 time and the best time in the world this year. After he finished flexing his biceps for photographers, he copped to a less-than-ideal performance at U.S. trials. He made the team, but he also knew, right then, he needed to “step up my game a little bit.” He felt, Hall said last month, like he could run even faster.
And, in a twist many missed, the combination of a disappointing trials and a steady lowering of his times in subsequent races, actually gave Hall a gift. He said it alleviated some of the pressure he might otherwise have faced. He wasn’t, Hall said, flying to Paris with a “target” on his back.
His path to 400-meter supremacy had never gone in a straight line, anyway. A Kansas City native, in high school, he ran cross-country and put “a lot of mileage in.” On the track, he competed in the 1,500 meters, then steadily lowered the distance he raced at, while adding speed each time. He tried the 800-meter run for a minute. Then rocked the 400-meter hurdles. Which led, naturally, to the 400-meter dash.
Such versatility—in one AAU meet, Hall said he competed in the 200, the 400, the 800 and the 1,500 in a matter of days—combined with that engine made progress all but certain. How much progress wouldn’t be revealed until Wednesday. “I’m used to carrying that workload,” he said.
Hall’s used to carrying a lot. After recording the fifth-fastest 400 time in the history of the disciplineWednesday, he spoke of doubters and distractions, of two brothers who died and two daughters who inspire him. All form the basis of that chugging in the final 100 meters.
Hall’s mother, Leica, is at the top of any list of his supporters. She introduced him to the sport of running, reminding him that it was better to run than work. So he ran, first at the College of the Sequoias, then at South Carolina, accumulating accolades and records as his times dropped. He turned pro and won two medals at the 2023 world championships—a gold in the 4X400-meter relay and bronze in the 400.
With experience in so many running disciplines, Hall assumed a more scientific approach as his career blossomed. He mentioned “energy systems” on Wednesday, before stopping right there, so as not to reveal any secrets. He indicated future plans to enter yet another discipline—gotta be the 200-meter dash, no?—and “try to go make chaos over there.”
Interestingly, what appeared to be a slow start for Hall on Wednesday actually was not. He said he ran one of his fastest starts, when Hudson-Smith chimed in. “I just got out,” the British runner said, meaning, he started really fast. Then, after answering, he finished a salad atop the medal winner stage.
This can be explained by academic study, perhaps. Amandine Aftalion is a French scientist who wrote a book, Be A Champion, 40 Facts You Didn’t Know About Sports Science. It focuses on the science of running. In a recent interview, Aftalion said the end of a 400-meter race in world competition is not dominated by finishing kicks, as it is often described. It’s more about sustaining maximum velocity for as long as possible.
Late Wednesday, she sent a text specific to the 400 final. Her research showed that Hudson-Smith was known for both elite quickness and steep deceleration at the end of this specific race. In fact, his max velocity, on average, dropped from roughly 11-meters per second at maximum velocity to 7.5-meters per second near the end of 400-meter races. Hall, she wrote, won “not because he sped up; he just managed to maintain his velocity” better and longer than Hudson-Smith did.
Even then, the British silver medalist clocked the fastest-ever time that didn’t win gold at an Olympics (43.44 seconds). He simply lost to a competitor who ran an even-faster time.
As the stands at Stade de France emptied, one fan in a USA T-shirt couldn’t contain his glee. As Hall made the media rounds, Katie Moon was winning silver in women’s pole vault, following her gold in Tokyo with another medal. At the same time, Gabby Thomas was receiving her 200-meter necklace, the gold one, alongside Brittany Brown, who won bronze. American flags were being waved and raised.
And here’s the real wild part: Thursday's slate features Noah Lyles (200, Olympic double at stake), Grant Holloway (favored to win gold in the 110-meter hurdles) and Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone (favored to break her own world record in the 400-meter hurdles). Consider that an opportunity to further distinguish this Olympics for USATF.
The Americans are surging. Or like Hall on Wednesday, maintaining their maximum velocity for longer than competitors from other countries have.
This article was originally published on www.si.com as Quincy Hall Adds to American Trend of Come-From-Behind Wins on the Track.
