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Maybe because they had not collected any gold medals since 1968, U.S. women runners celebrated their victories most animatedly, fumbling with flags and even tumbling with coaches. None appeared more joyful than Valerie Brisco-Hooks, 24, now the only 200 and 400 double winner of any sex in all Olympic history, and the first American to win three gold medals in track and field since Wilma Rudolph's unprecedented triple in 1960. Two-and-a-half years ago, Brisco turned away from track to marry former N.F.L. Pass Catcher Alvin Hooks and have a son. Once Alvin Jr. grew old enough to attend workouts and the sport began to call her back, she discovered the amazing power of motherhood. "I know for a fact that it gave me extra strength. It's easier for me to work out well now." She is one of ten children raised in Los Angeles, the only daughter of three to follow her brother Robert to foot racing. He was killed by a stray bullet while running on a high school track in 1974. "I was close to Robert," she said.
Before the 200-meter race, its most remarkable feature was Florence Griffith's Howard Hughes-length fingernails gaily lacquered in red, white and blue.
She had the slicker fingernails, but Brisco-Hooks the happier feet. As she screeched through the curve, her 21.81 time made it two Olympic records for her, and the U.S. won the women's 4-by-400 relay on the last day of competition. Her trademark bulky glasses were discarded for contact lenses; a row of braided bangs fell across her forehead like a beaded door hanging. She ran like a cougar, like Evelyn Ashford.
At last Ashford's position as the world's finest sprinter was confirmed in the 100-meter dash. Since she was twelve, and she is 27 now, none of Ashford's records and all of her dreams have been set at the Olympics. But she has been awakened frequently by nightmares: in 1979 she ran away from the best international 100 and 200 fields, celebrated East Germans Marlies Göhr and Marita Koch included, at the World Cup. But by 1980 her fine, fragile legs were popping strings, and they could not be summoned to try out for a symbolic team. Ashford posted her world record 100 (10.79) in Colorado last summer to chill the East German runners awaiting her in Helsinki. But she arrived there, as usual, grabbing her right hamstring, which she racked in the heats and wrecked in the finals. At the Olympic trials in June, taped as tautly and poignantly as Mickey Mantle, she won the 100 but could not finish the 200. "To be injured at the trials put a fear in my heart," she admitted. How many rehabilitation programs before a person quits? Well, Ashford finally held together for the Olympic 100.
The world's fastest fragile female runner is now also the only sub-11-sec. woman in the history of the Games. "I have the world record, and I'm the Olympic champion," she announced to herself. On the victory stand she held the gold medal out with her thumb to look at it. "I don't know what, but something came over me and I couldn't stop crying." She thought, "My God, it's over. I've done it. I can rest in peace." But no: "I'll continue to compete as long as I have speed." The new gold-medal class had been too long catching up to the last one, Madeline Manning and Wyomia Tyus, to stop running now.