Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone Is Hurdling History Faster Than Ever

The U.S. star will carry a lot of momentum into the Paris Games after breaking her own world record at the Olympic trials.

McLaughlin-Levrone sets a world record of 50.65 in the women’s 400-meter hurdles during the final day of the U.S. Olympic Track and Field trials on Sunday at Hayward Field in Eugene, Ore. / Ben Lonergan/The Register-Guard / USA TODAY

As another Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone moment drew closer Sunday, anticipation shooting skyward and suspense focused not on her race but on its time clock, the hurdler huddled one final time with her coach. There wasn’t much left to say, not then, as she warmed up.

“I’m going to take it out,” she told Bobby Kersee.

“Good luck,” he responded.

In a race where winning didn’t matter much, where a top-three finish would guarantee a trip to the Paris Olympics, McLaughlin-Levrone meant she would start as fast as she possibly could. If that went well, she’d keep a top-speed pace. If that went well, she’d see what happened—and still not likely break her world record in the 400-meter hurdles. The time was simply too low, even for a sprinter with her uncommon speed. If that strategy went beyond well, though, she had a real chance to lower it once more.

Kersee, as he almost does, left the stadium after their conference. There’s nothing he can do then anyway. So he’ll walk the nearby streets, like he did Sunday. Soon, what always happens when she runs happened yet again. Sure enough, his volume of text messages told Kersee the result of her race at the U.S. Olympic Track and Field trials in Eugene, Ore. McLaughlin-Levrone had done it, all of it, winning and world record-ing like it was the easiest thing on Earth.

Consider Kersee’s race non-presence, then, something of a good luck charm. “Five times she set the world record,” he says, while driving toward Portland to fly back to Los Angeles. “Five times I haven’t seen it in the stadium.”

Makes sense, actually, because there’s something to the formula. Something that bends one race, in one place—and the woman who continues to conquer both, while changing what’s believed to be possible in her event—toward spectacular. The particular thing is always different, but that’s the thing about McLaughlin-Levrone, 400-meter hurdles finals and the track at Hayward Field.

McLaughlin-Levrone set the world junior record here in 2016, at only 16. She set the world record here, at U.S. qualifying for worlds, in 2022. She came back a month later for the world championships and broke her own mark with a time that staggered longtime track observers.

Then she came back this June, again—on the final day of Olympic qualifying; as the final, showcase, marquee event—and ran faster than two years ago when she staggered those with decades of experience who thought times that fast simply could not be run in hurdles.

There’s no other way to explain this series of moments. Forget the tower that forms the signature of America’s lone track stadium. Nothing and no one towers above McLaughlin-Levrone. She’s pushing track, its history and things like physics beyond where anyone thought possible.

Even McLaughlin-Levrone didn’t necessarily expect to set another one Sunday. The standard she had set two years earlier was almost too fast to surpass. Her husband, Andre Levrone, asked her the night before if she thought she had a chance.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she responded.

She’d take aim at it, that much was always certain. McLaughlin-Levrone was introduced third Sunday. She high-stepped out of the tunnel and into the part of the track that was shaded by the early evening sun. A cyborg would have envied her blank expression. It never changed. No smiles. No frowns. She didn’t sway back and forth. She took small steps, as if on some sort of confined march. The suspense left the stadium so silent that fans could hear an actual bird chirp from the partial roof above near the finish line.

The starter gun sounded, and McLaughlin-Levrone exploded from the blocks as if her body had been shot from the gun. She sprinted, fittingly, toward the sun. By the first corner, she had caught the runner in Lane 6, who started in front of her, after not even 100 full meters. By the second turn, she had caught all the runners whose staggered starts were ahead of her own. By the third corner, as she rounded into the final straightaway, she was so far ahead she could have stopped and checked her email and salsa-danced across the finish line and still finished first.

At that point, whomever wasn’t standing at Hayward Field rose from their seats. These are track fans, knowledgeable and opinionated. They knew what they were watching. Not just greatness but the unprecedented kind. The may-never-see again kind. They roared, collectively, as loud as they had all trials. They wanted what she wanted—not a mere victory, which was all but certain. A world record. Another … freaking … world … record … from this hurdler, on this track.

50.65! A NEW WORLD RECORD FOR SYDNEY MCLAUGHLIN-LEVRONE 👏 #TrackFieldTrials24 pic.twitter.com/j57bj8qIgY

— NBC Sports (@NBCSports) July 1, 2024

Her time flashed on the scoreboard. The experts in the stands knew better than to celebrate immediately. They waited for the official ruling, which flashed after maybe five seconds. It read: 50.65. Again.

McLaughlin-Levrone leaned backward on the track. She clutched her legs with both arms. She looked tired but not exhausted. She looked like she could run another race or five. She had seen her own time and thought, “Oh, snap.”

She knew what it meant, too. Everybody in track does. This is shouldn’t-be-happening stuff. About 30 minutes before the 400-meter hurdles final, longtime and decorated U.S. Olympian Brittney Reese watched the competition wind down from the second row on the final straightaway. Asked about McLaughlin-Levrone’s times relative to how well the wider American sports public understood their significance, Reese laughed and shook her head. En route to winning 11 medals in Olympic or world championship long jump competitions, everyone started to refer to her as Da Beast. As in, B-Reese Da Beast.

Takes one to know one, right? Now retired and working as a Tracktown USA Jump Ambassador, Reese gestured toward the track and said, “Most people just don’t know how fast that really is.”

Perhaps McLaughlin-Levrone needs her own nickname. May we suggest: What Syd Just Did.

As Kersee called, on that drive to the airport, he still hadn’t watched the clip of her latest record-breaking hurdle. He would, after driving. He already knew where it ranked—for her and for her sport—anyway. “That time,” he says, “speaks for itself.”