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T
oday I broke down and cried again, as Florence Griffith Joyner's
autopsy reports were released. My heart filled with admiration
and pride when I watched her run -- admiration for
her faultless stride and strength, for her grace, for her
obvious strain to excel! achieve! I'm ME and I am a runner! -- and
such was her beauty and strength that I shared in her pride when she
won, breaking all records and accepting her role as fastest woman on
Earth.
T
his is inspiration in its truest form -- someone so
complete and natural in their humanness that we instantly bond with them,
yet so
excellent and so much greater than us that we aspire to be even close
to them in their level of achievement.
O
h, I cry when we lose the great ones. Princess Di
and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Selena and Minnie Pearl and all
the great ones you knew. That
everyone is touched by one is the mark of greatness and the Grace of
God. Yet all life is holy, here in God's Kingdom on Planet Earth.
T
his is Heaven, we are in it! Kanab knew it, and Buddha knew it,
and Jesus knew it. Black Elk and Geronimo and Poncho
knew it. In the end, we all know it. People, this is our Kingdom,
this Kingdom our Earth.
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L
ike
"Lightning",
Death came as suddenly as
stunning world records for
Florence Griffith Joyner,
the fastest woman on
Earth.
I
t had been a good
day September 24, a family day, for
Florence Griffith
Joyner. She and her
husband, Al, had
watched proudly as
Mary, their seven year old
daughter, won some
trophies at a
gymnastics meet.
Later, Griffith Joyner
spent hours on the
phone with friends
while Al fell asleep on
the living-room sofa.
But at 6:30 the next morning, Sept. 21, the alarm
rang -- and kept on ringing. Al Joyner, 38, went
into the bedroom, touched his wife's still body,
tried in vain to rouse her and dialed 911. Then he
broke down sobbing. Awakened by the sound,
Mary came into the room, realized what had
happened and reached for her father's hand. "Dad,
everything is going to be all right," she told
him.
"Mama is with God now."
O
thers found it harder to fathom how a woman as
vital and athletic as Florence Griffith Joyner --
"FloJo" to the world -- could have died in her
sleep
at the age of only 38. An explosive sprinter who
had obliterated records on her way to three gold
medals at the 1988 Seoul Olympics, she was
also an incomparable stylist who startled the
track world with her low-cut, one-legged
spandex bodysuits and her six inch long painted
fingernails. But Griffith Joyner also had a
history
of medical problems and had felt sluggish the
day before she died of an epileptic seizure.
"At different times this year she got real
tired," says her older sister Kathleen Wiggs, 45.
"She felt a little tired that day." The autopsy
report released Thursday October 22 indicates
Joyner suffered a fatal epileptic seizure in
her sleep.
E
ven as a child growing up in the Watts section
of Los Angeles, Griffith Joyner showed
uncommon resolve. The seventh of eleven children
born to Robert Griffith, an airline technician,
and
his wife, Florence, a homemaker, "she was a
very focused little girl," says Wiggs, adding that
her sister was so fleet of foot "we called her
Lightning." She took up running at age seven and
kept
at it even after doctors diagnosed a heart murmur
when she was in junior high school. A track star
at UCLA, Griffith Joyner went on to win an
Olympic silver medal in the 200 Meters in 1984,
then emerged from a brief retirement (and a stint
as a beautician) to set world records that still
stand in the 100 Meters and 200 Meters in 1988.
A
fter retiring, she designed uniforms for the
NBA's Indiana Pacers, co-chaired the President's
Council on Physical Fitness and taped episodes
of the new Hollywood Squares, which aired,
sadly, the very week she died. Plans for an
autobiography were also in the works. "She
accomplished so much in her life, yet still had so
much she wanted to do," says her friend Debra
Turner. "She just never slowed down."
[abridged and edited from
-- ALEX TRESNIOWSKI,
LORENZO BENET, KELLY CARTER and
SUSAN CHRISTIAN-GOULDING in Los
Angeles and MARY HARRISON in St. Louis]
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