‘You’re going to win then.’
Those were the words of Dani Samuels. We were sitting in our apartment and she was explaining how nervous she was about the week ahead. Dani had won the world discus title two years earlier in Berlin, but had struggled to deal with the pressure associated with the victory in recent times.
She was really feeling it now that the championships were upon us, and was having trouble sleeping. I remember in Berlin I had been the one who was still up at 1 am because I couldn’t sleep, while Dani would be passed out at 10.30 pm. It had made me angry, because that was a sign of someone relaxed and confident going into a major championships.
Now the roles had been reversed. I was sleeping like a baby and Dani was climbing the walls. That was why she’d predicted my victory, and as soon as she said the words it also hit me – I was going to win.
There was one minor difference, though, that confused me. Dani was actually the one who was having dreams that she was going to win the world title again. I wasn’t having any dreams, which for me was unusual.
After a miserable first couple of weeks in Daegu, the weather had turned for the better and was perfect by the time the championships began. The heats were in the morning and I was on song the moment I got to the warmup track.
‘This is the best warm-up I’ve done for a major competition,’ I declared to Sharon.
‘Yep, you looked amazing.’
As I went over each hurdle I was getting more and more surprised at how good I felt. Hayley Butler, who was a member of the 4x100m relay team, had been a hurdler as a junior and had come out to watch the warm-up.
‘When you do your warm-up, every single person, as soon as you get onto your blocks, everyone stops and just watches you,’ she said.
‘Really? Thanks.’ It was a nice little confidence boost just before I entered the competition arena.
While the warm-up had been outstanding, I was still concerned about the fact that I hadn’t competed for three weeks. I had a history of not running well first up at a major championships after a break, and having that weird sensation of forgetting how to hurdle. Normally that resulted in a time of around 12.8, but I knew early in the heat that wasn’t going to be the case this time.
Nevertheless I still wasn’t expecting what appeared on the clock: 12.53.
‘Wow,’ I said out loud as I crossed the line. It was the fastest heat run in world championships history. I knew immediately what people would be saying. They would think I’d run the race of my life in the heat, that I’d gone too hard and would be dead for the next round.
Steve Hooker relayed a conversation he’d had with Irish hurdler Derval O’Rourke in a lift shortly after the first round.
‘Did you see Sally?’ he asked.
‘She ran really fast, too fast for a heat,’ O’Rourke said.
‘No I reckon she looked pretty comfortable,’ was my team captain’s reply.
That was exactly how I felt, and I wasn’t about to let a stupid curse mess with my mind. The ‘Curse of the Cover’ had become a major talking point in Daegu, given the unfortunate results for the athletes who’d featured on the cover of the daily program. Six out of the seven athletes who’d appeared on the cover, including Hooker, had bombed that evening.
The only successful one was actually a walker, so some people were saying that didn’t count as it was off-site and not an event in the stadium.
I found out I was on the cover for day eight when I walked into the physio room and long-jumper Mitch Watt was there.
‘Did you see the cover of the program?’ Mitch said with this big cheesy smile on his face. ‘You’re on the front.’
It didn’t bother me, but his excitement about it did.
‘Why are you saying that with a big smile on your face, Mitch?’
He backtracked immediately. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.’
Apparently Sharon had been horrified when she found out and was telling people not to show me. She’d even tried to collect the programs around the apartment so I wouldn’t see it.
‘This is just a total sign of respect,’ was Sharon’s take on the curse. ‘No-one else has made that cover that wasn’t a defending world champion or a multiple world record holder. This is an amazing sign of respect, so just soak it up.’
The program was the last thing I was thinking about as I stood on the start line for the semifinal. I was in lane three, with my main danger, Dawn Harper, in lane five. My start was again brilliant and I felt so smooth over the hurdles. Everything seemed easy, and I cruised to victory over Harper. I knew it was good, but I was blown away when I saw the time: 12.36. It required a second and third look for it to sink in. I’d just taken .12 of a second off my personal best in the semifinal.
I looked up at Sharon in the stands and gestured my surprise by mouthing, ‘What the?’
Everyone was screaming because they were as excited as I was about the time, which I was soon told was the equal fifth fastest time in history. It was also the fastest time seen in the 100m hurdles since Gail Devers ran 12.33 seconds in 2000, and would have won every Olympic title in history.
My disbelief soon turned to worry as I headed for the warm-up track, given I only had 90 minutes until the final. I was confused because I figured I must have run my legs off by clocking that time, but they actually felt good. Why wasn’t I tired?
I started second-guessing myself.
‘Have I just run too fast?’ I asked Sharon as we walked a lap together. ‘Are you sure I haven’t run out of legs?’
Sharon was very calm.
‘I’ve been waiting for this year for a very long time,’ she said. ‘You’re going to run a lot faster.’
I couldn’t comprehend that but I was intrigued. ‘Well, what do you think I’ll run?’
She didn’t even blink. ‘I reckon at least 12.30.’
I wandered off for another lap to mull over my coach’s prediction. About halfway along I passed Usain Bolt, who was sitting down watching the big screen. The men’s 200m final was on 20 minutes after my race.
‘You’re killing it,’ he said.
I was completely caught off guard. Wow! Usain Bolt was talking to me.
‘Thanks,’ was all I managed, with a massive smile on my face.
Everyone had started to take notice of me that year, with the unbeaten streak and the fact I was running super fast. When I got back to Sharon, I asked her what she wanted me to do for the next hour.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to do a thing. You’ve just run so fast you have to let your fast-twitch fibres settle down, so don’t do anything. Just lie down.’
I was in good hands with Bruno, my favourite masseur, working on my legs. He was good value and always had a story to tell. After a bit of banter about nothing in particular, Sharon and I went for another walk. As we made our way around the track we watched my rivals going over hurdles, some even crashing into them.
‘They’re trying to find something,’ Sharon said. ‘You’ve just run 12.36. They’re trying to find that extra thing that you’ve got.’
I liked her explanation. ‘Cool,’ I said.
With 20 minutes to go until I was required at the call room, I did some slow skipping and that was it.
I was ready.
* * *
‘World record. Not today.’
I don’t know where those words came from, but they suddenly came into my mind as I waited in the call room. I’d never thought about the world record just minutes out from running a race before, which told me I must have been getting close.
‘Surely not,’ I said to myself as we walked out onto the track.
I was in lane three – sandwiched between two Canadians, Nikkita Holder and Phylicia George. My three American rivals – Danielle Carruthers, Kellie Wells and Dawn Harper – were all drawn out together on the far side.
After completing my run-throughs, I sat down on the lane box and took a deep breath. There was a calmness about everything.
As the camera came up close for the introductions, I smiled and waved.
I knew I just had to repeat what I’d been doing all year.
These girls can’t go with me.
After getting settled into the blocks, I sat up, adjusted my hair and took one last look down the blue track.
Fast start. Strong start. Fast start. Strong start.
I nailed it.
Go. Go. Go.
I was in front over the first hurdle and travelling. My rhythm was perfect as I flowed over hurdles two, three and four.
I’m winning the world championships. Ahhhhhhhhh!
I’d just gotten over the fifth hurdle and let out a muffled scream. In Beijing I’d realised I was leading over the fourth hurdle and got too excited.
Don’t let it happen again. Stay focused.
I was clean over the next couple of hurdles and everything felt fast. I was moving.
Where are the others?
With two hurdles remaining I still couldn’t see a leg out of the corner of my eye or sense the presence of anyone.
Keep running. Keep running.
The final hurdle was as smooth as the first.
I’ve done it. I’m the world champion.
Racing over the finish line to become the world champion in the women’s 100m hurdles at the 13th IAAF World Athletics Championships at Daegu Stadium on 3 September 2011 in South Korea. (Photo by Andy Lyons/Getty Images)
I dipped for the line and then looked straight up at the clock: 12.28.
Holy shit. That’s nearly a world record.
I screamed and kept running to where I saw a lot of people in yellow.
12.28. Have I really just run that fast?
My Australian teammates were going nuts in the stand as I bounced in front of them, screaming. An Aussie flag was thrown down, and as I put it around my shoulders, I saw Sharon making her way down the stairs.
We’d done it. We’d stuck strong and got our gold medal. She’d always said I was ready to run that fast and, as usual, she was right.
‘Thank you. Thank you,’ I said as she squeezed the life out of me.
I then took off on the most enjoyable lap of my life. There were Australian fans littered throughout the stadium, and my smile seemingly got bigger and bigger with every stride. I found Mum, Kieran and my manager, Robert, almost at the completion of my lap.
‘I did it,’ I screamed.
I was almost back to the finish line when David Culbert, a former Olympic long jump finalist and commentator from Australia, ran down the stairs and threw a program onto the track for me.
‘Stuff the bloody curse,’ I said as I stomped on it for the cameras.
I hadn’t really comprehended what the time meant – apart from the fact that I knew it was ridiculously fast – until I got to the mixed zone and the interviews started.
My time of 12.28 was the fourth fastest in history. It was a new world championships record, and the fastest time run in the 100m hurdles for 19 years.
‘I worked so hard to get here tonight,’ I said. ‘I haven’t missed a training session all year. I had faith in my coach and my training.
‘I’ve just given it all and finally come out tonight and proved that when I want something badly enough, and I stay focused enough, I can achieve it.
‘I wanted it so badly.’
Many people were telling Sharon that my time was the world record because there was a question mark over Bulgaria’s Yordanka Donkova, who ran 12.21 in 1988. The three people in front of me in the record books had competed during a period where drug cheats had dominated the sport.
Maurie Plant was adamant. ‘That was the world record right there.’
I appreciated where they were coming from but my response was simple: ‘Well, it isn’t.’
The medal ceremony wouldn’t be until the following evening after the 4x100m relay heats, in which I would be anchoring the Australian team. There was still an official press conference I had to do before I could get back to the village to start celebrating.
While I was waiting to go into the pressroom, Usain Bolt arrived, as he’d just won the 200m.
‘That was amazing,’ he said.
Once again I was lost for words.
By the time I got back to the village it was well after midnight, and there was a note on my apartment door from Alana telling me to come up to Steve Hooker’s room.
As soon as I opened the door, I was mobbed. My teammates were drunk and very excited with lots of group hugs, dancing and singing ensuing over the next couple of hours. Even though I was competing the next day, I still had a beer.
I figured I deserved it – I was the world champion.
On the podium with my gold medal for the women’s 100m hurdles at the 13th IAAF World Athletics Championships at Daegu, South Korea on 4 September 2011. (Photo by Mark Dadswell/Getty Images)