In Saint-Denis, France, Noah Lyles stood at the far end of the track, hands clasped over his head, eyes fixed on the scoreboard. He had waited three arduous years, toiling on the practice track and in the weight room, to find out if every centimeter gained and every millisecond cut would be worth it. Time seemed to stretch as he awaited the answer. Ten seconds passed, then twenty, nearly thirty. Finally, the display lit up.
Yes, Noah Lyles was the 100-meter champion at the Paris Olympics, earning the title of the World’s Fastest Man. But just barely.
In an electrifying showdown, the American edged out Jamaica’s Kishane Thompson by five-thousandths of a second—.005 seconds. The final times: Lyles at 9.784 seconds, Thompson at 9.789.
Before departing for Paris, one of Lyles’ physio team predicted a nail-biter of a race. “He said, ‘This is how close first and second are going to be,’” Lyles recounted, pinching his thumb and forefinger together. “I can’t believe how right he was.”
For context, a blink lasts about .1 second—twenty times longer than the margin that separated Lyles from Thompson. So close was the finish that when the sprinters crossed the line and the word “Photo” appeared next to their names, Lyles turned to Thompson and said, “I think you got the Olympics, dog.”
Thompson, running three lanes away and with no idea where he stood, was equally uncertain. “I was like, ‘Wow, I’m not even sure, because it was that close,’” he said.
Time eventually told the tale. When Lyles’s name appeared first, he ripped off his name tag and held it high, yelling at the camera, “America, I told you I got this!”
The race was one for the history books, with the first four runners separated by less than .03 seconds and the top seven within .09 seconds of each other. Fred Kerley of the USA secured third place, clocking in at 9.81 seconds. “That’s probably one of the most beautiful races I’ve been in,” he remarked.
In the photo finish, Kerley’s orange shoe was the first to cross the line, but in sprinting, it’s the chest that counts. Lyles edged out everyone with his chest.
This marks one of the closest 1-2 finishes in the 100 meters since the Moscow Olympics in 1980, or perhaps ever. In 1980, Allan Wells narrowly beat Silvio Leonard in an era before timers measured to the thousandths of a second. The same was true for Eddie Tolan’s win in the 1932 Olympics, the first to use a photo finish.
During the agonizing wait, Lyles admitted he feared that his early chest dip had cost him the race. Interestingly, dipping is not something he practices much, though he claimed, “I have a decent history with dipping,” recalling past victories from his high school and junior years.
The 9.784-second finish was a personal best for Lyles, marking him the first American 100-meter champion since Justin Gatlin in 2004. Lyles aspires to elevate the sport, reminiscent of the days when legends like Carl Lewis and Edwin Moses captivated track and field fans. Performing in front of about 80,000 fans at the Stade de France, Lyles lived out that vision on a warm night in Paris.
After missing the gold in Tokyo, where he only managed a bronze in the 200 meters, Lyles renewed his commitment to his mental health and sought a new mission: the 100-meter dash and the prospect of track immortality. Known more for his closing speed than his starts, he dedicated himself to intensive training. Winning the 100 and 200 meters at the world championships last year solidified his aspirations for Paris.
Heading into the Olympic final, Lyles had yet to differentiate himself in the qualifiers, finishing second in both. Facing sprinters like Thompson who had run faster than him, and Jamaica’s Oblique Seville who had beaten him twice that year, Lyles knew the race would be anything but a coronation.
Tensions mounted when Thompson let out a primal scream during the introductions—a move Lyles often did himself. “I thought ‘Man, that’s my thing, that’s crazy,’” Lyles said. Lyles bounded down the track before lining up at the start, where they waited three lengthy minutes for the gun.
It was worth every second.
Later, questions arose on what had clinched the win. Was it Lyles’s closing speed, his misjudged lean, or his ability to stay in the mix during the critical first 60 meters—a skill honed through rigorous practice?
It was all of that and more. “Everyone in the field came out knowing they could win this race,” Lyles said.
It took 9.784 seconds, and about 30 more for the scoreboard to reveal the champion.
“Seeing that name, I was like ‘Oh my gosh, there it is!’” Lyles exclaimed.
In more Olympic news, Ukrainian high jumpers Yaroslava Mahuchikh and Iryna Gerashchenko celebrated a heartfelt victory, winning gold and bronze respectively. Mahuchikh cleared 2 meters in fewer attempts than Australia’s Nicola Olyslagers to bring home Olympic gold for her war-torn country.
Meanwhile, the stage is set for an intense showdown in the men’s 1,500 meters as reigning world champion Josh Kerr of Britain faces off against defending Olympic champion Jakob Ingebrigtsen of Norway. In Sunday’s semifinal, Ingebrigtsen edged out Kerr in a race that brimmed with competitive spirit, setting the scene for what promises to be a dramatic final on Tuesday.
“They should be expecting one of the most vicious and hardest 1,500s the sport’s seen in a very long time,” Kerr declared.
Did Ingebrigtsen agree?
“Depends who you ask, maybe,” he said. “I mean, racing is what you want it to be.”
