Triple Jumper Jonathan Edwards’ 30-Year-Old World Record Still Stands as One of Track and Field’s Longest-Lasting Feats

In Gothenburg, Sweden, triple jumper Jonathan Edwards made an unexpected purchase in duty-free. Seeking a pair of sunglasses, he wasn’t planning to sunbathe on the city’s coastline but instead for the upcoming world championships, the biggest event on the track and field calendar that year.

The British athlete, who was at the peak of his form in 1995, admitted fearing he might not win despite jumping exceptionally well throughout the season. Edwards broke his own world record twice during the competition, leaping an impressive 18 meters and 29 centimeters (approximately 60 feet) with his second attempt. His closest competitor, Bermuda’s Brian Wellman, couldn’t come within half a meter (1.64 feet).

Thirty years ago, on this very day, Edwards leaped into the record books, setting a long-standing world record in triple jump that still stands as one of track and field’s most enduring records. Only American Christian Taylor has come within 10 centimeters (around 3.94 inches) since then, and only eight athletes have jumped beyond 18 meters (approximately 59.05 feet).

Edwards often revisits footage of the feat, appreciating the electric speed down the runway, his bounding strides during the jumping action, and the enormous final vault into the sandpit. Leaping beyond the 18-meter measurement board, Edwards immediately knew he had broken the record twice in quick succession. He raised his hands in triumph, then waited anxiously for the result to appear on the big screen before shrugging his shoulders as if to say: “I’ve done it again.”

“It’s a wonderful thing,” Edwards tells CNN Sports, “and it brings a smile to my face. Although it’s me, there’s something very aesthetically pleasing about watching that jump. To hold a world record, to do something better than anybody else has done in the history of the world, it’s remarkable.”

After his historic performance in Gothenburg, Edwards’ competition was essentially over. He became the first man to jump beyond 18 meters with his opening attempt and the first to pass 60 feet (18.288m) with his second. A third attempt of 17.49m followed later in the competition, but by then Edwards had accomplished all that he needed to – and more – for the gold medal. In hindsight, he believes that the first world record paved the way for another.

“I still maintained that sort of heightened sense of readiness for that second jump,” he says. “It was about grasping that moment and enjoying it and not feeling scared stiff about the thought of it going wrong, but rather trying to do something that was just remarkable and enjoying the moment.”

Only a handful of men’s track and field world records have stood for longer than Edwards’ 18.29, including Mike Powell’s 8.95m (about 29.36 feet) for the long jump in 1991 and Javier Sotomayor’s 2.45m (almost 8.04 feet) for the high jump in 1993.

Edwards attributes the longevity of his record to his unique combination of speed and lightness down the runway, reminiscent of a stone skipping gracefully across a pond. He considers his jumping style more of a bounce than a jump.

“I’ve looked at all the jumpers who have gone since me, and none of them really jumped like me,” says Edwards. “They’re much bigger; I’m very slight. My pure jumping ability is not brilliant … but it’s when you come down to running at full speed and maintaining speed through the phases – I don’t think anybody lands like me and maintains their speed like me, hence jumping the furthest.”

Edwards’ journey to becoming a professional athlete was unlike most. His Christian faith motivated him to make a living out of sports, together with the encouragement of his father, a Church of England vicar. However, Edwards later lost his faith and views it as an unintentional part of his sports psychology during competition.

Perhaps it was part of the reason he was able to reach the career heights that he did in 1995. On top of breaking the record three times and winning gold in Gothenburg, Edwards also jumped a staggering 18.43m (almost 60.47 feet) in June that year, though it was never ratified due to favorable wind conditions.

“That still is the single most remarkable day of my career,” Edwards says of the unofficial jump in Lille, France. “I watched that over and over again because it was just such a beautiful thing – the rhythm, the timing, the speed on the runway, everything. It was fabulous. It was a better jump than Gothenburg, I thought, in terms of the technique.”

Edwards was at the peak of his powers then, but he laments not being able to recreate the same driving arm action at other points of his career, even in the following season. He won silver at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, despite entering as the firm favorite, and upgraded to gold in Sydney four years later, though he describes his winning jump as “not great.”

It was only for a brief window in 1995 that Edwards felt like he had technical mastery over the triple jump, enabling him to jump further than ever before.

“I guess it shows you how tough an event it is to get right because there’s so many moving parts, quite literally, that can go wrong, and each one builds on another one,” he says. “You might have the two best phases, the hop and the step, but you can miss it on the jump phase. There’s a lot that needs to go right to get a record.”

The technique and precision required in an event like the triple jump might be another reason that Edwards’ 18.29 has stood the test of time. Like all records, it will eventually fall, but when that happens is uncertain, and one Edwards isn’t eager to contemplate.

“It’ll be fine if it’s broken,” he says, “but at the same time, it’s become part of me. It’s part of my life. It’s an incredible thing to hold a world record, to do something better than anybody else has done it in the history of the world.”

And when the time comes, would he want to be in the stadium to watch his record fall? “I definitely wouldn’t,” is Edwards’ instant response. “I’d like to be somewhere out of the way where nobody can get to me, and I can just process it in quiet and silence and isolation.”