Holy Moses!

Hurdling legend wants to see what he can accomplish at age 48

PARIS -- There was a science to watching Edwin Moses run the 400-meter hurdles. There was also a science to his approach. From the 13 steps he took in between hurdles to his 9-foot-9-inch stride to the 56-degree water in which he would soak his legs after a race, Moses could apply his physics background -- he once worked as an aerospace engineer for General Dynamics -- to his mastery of hurdling with an uncanny precision.

Lost, too often to the naked eye, was the passion that made Moses run. We wanted him to emote more, to dance after victory and laugh and tell jokes and do cartwheels, as if those things somehow made him more human and appealing. But Moses' ability to internalize his emotions was part of what made him the best the sport has ever seen, unbeaten in 122 races over a decade of supremacy, and a double gold medalist at both the world championships and Olympic Games.

So here in Paris, where the IAAF world championships are making news for too many of the wrong reasons, it was refreshing to hear Moses, on his 48th birthday no less, talking about the passion that is bringing him back into competition. Never mind that the obstacles he faces are far too great for us to expect him to race in another Olympics. Moses is realistic about his prospects for improvement. "My goal is to run [the 400-meter hurdles in] 50.50 seconds," he says. "That would get me a qualifying spot at the Olympic trials [next summer in Sacramento]. Just to get on the track and feel what it's like again would be thrilling." At his best, Moses ran the event in 47.02, a mark that is still the second-fastest in history. It would have been perfect, after Olympic victories in Montreal in 1976, and Los Angeles in 1984, for him to go out on top with a third gold medal at the 1988 Seoul Games. But Moses had begun suffering from back problems, and while he didn't exactly creep around the track at his last Olympics, he still looked old in winning the bronze -- at least in comparison to the standards he had set.

Look at Moses today and he still appears as trim as ever. He is in Paris to do television commentary, and by the way people nod at him as he passes them in the hallways you would think he was Professor Track and Field. But the back problems, mostly healed, have given way to daily middle-age maladies. "It takes me 40 minutes to warm up now," says Moses.

So the question is, Why? Why, when your reputation is as solid as Moses' would you try something that could make you look like an aging Mark Spitz or a self-indulgent Gordie Howe? Speculation among many of the reporters assembled at his press conference on Sunday was that he wanted to get in a plug for his causes. Moses has been doing excellent work as chairman of a group called the Laureus Sports Foundation. It's a organization of retired athletes who raise money around the world in order to do good deeds. Among them: the start up of a crime and drug prevention program for teens in Richmond, Va.; running a soccer program in Nairobi that also teaches kids about AIDS awareness; facilitating a partnership with the Special Olympics to create mixed teams of athletes with and without mental handicaps in China and the Czech Republic; putting together a project in Sao Paulo, Brazil that aims to get kids interested in sports and the arts; and lastly, spearheading an initiative to combat homelessness and abuse among youth in Cape Town, South Africa.

Moses has done well off the track by lending his name and his time to worthy causes. He seems comfortable being recognized and revered in track circles, while also taking some comfort in the relative anonymity in which he lives the rest of his life. But if his comeback were to turn into nothing more than a publicity stunt, it wouldn't be worth the effort. Moses would look silly if he tried to get into a lane next to, say, Felix Sanchez, the world champ from the Dominican Republic. So the question remains -- why? why do it?

"No one asked an artist who was great in his 20s and 30s why he was still painting in his 40s and 50s," Moses says. "I'm not going to add anything to my career. I don't want to be a gladiator; I'm fine being an ex-gladiator." Apart from the Olympic-trial berth, Moses says he'd like to enjoy the feeling of winning races again, perhaps in age-group events, which he could rule. Al Oerter, the four-time gold medalist in the discus, never stopped throwing. He moved from the Olympic arenas to some high school fields where there were state-level 50-and-over titles to be won, and Oerter always said that being able to celebrate victory the way he did as a boy kept him young.

Moses doesn't sound like a man who is kidding himself, so why not applaud him for wanting to feel some of that joy again? "I always wanted to run senior athletics and be competitive," he says. "You won't see me on the European track circuit. You won't see me as a guest entry in big meets. I don't plan on seeing Sanchez' behind. If I'm physically able to appear at the Olympic trials, that would be quite an accomplishment."

Perhaps Moses has his eyes set on more ink, a political office within the sport, an IOC post. Perhaps he simply wants his name out there again. I'd like to think he just wants his throat out there. "If I was 100 percent sane, I probably wouldn't be doing this," he said, "but I know hurdlers are crazy."

Sports Illustrated staff writer Brian Cazeneuve covers Olympic sports for the magazine and is a regular contributor to SI.com.