In a 400 meter race, the last hundred meters are the hardest. Especially the final 60. But Hunter Woodhall may never have been more ready for them in his life.
He pulled away from Olivier Hendriks of the Netherlands, surged past Johannes Floors of Germany and shut down the stretch. The 25-year-old, in his third Paralympic Games, has gotten stronger along the way. He crossed the finish line gold medalist in the 400 meters (T62 – for double below-the-knee amputees). A triumphant climax on a journey that moved the nation.
When the race was over, after he took off his WOODHALL name tag and bent over for the camera, he did what America expected him to do. He ran to his wife.
Tara Davis-Woodhall, the gold medal long jumper and one half of the beloved duo, was waiting with open arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. And would not leave.
GOLDEN COUPLE!🥇🥇
Hunter Woodhall celebrates with Tara Davis-Woodhall after his race. #Paralympics of Paris pic.twitter.com/pnRcX59Uyh
— NBC Olympics and Paralympics (@NBCOlympics) 6 September 2024
Woodhall’s story is an epic tale of inspiration. It is a masterpiece of resilience. A testament to the human spirit and the power of dreams. But as much as any of that, perhaps more than any of that, his is a love story. One that captured the nation.
His love for Tara. His love of Tara. He feels its impact in his life, on the track. On Friday night at Stade de France outside Paris, it pushed him to another level.
He was already an accomplished sprinter. While at the University of Arkansas, he won a bronze medal in the SEC Outdoor Championships – against non-disabled runners. He won silver in the 200 meters (T44) and bronze in the 400 meters (T44) in the 2016 Rio Paralympics. At the 2020 Tokyo Games, he won bronze in the 400 meters (T62).
This year it was about discovering a new peak. About seeing what could happen when talent and opportunity are maximized. And doing it together. He captured two silvers at the world championships in Kobe, Japan. Now he has gold.
“Every time we both compete,” Woodhall, in a previous interview in Paris, said of his and his wife’s ritual, “the first thing we do is look for each other in the crowd. Make sure we is there. And then it’s like, ‘Okay, I’m good.’ No matter what happens, I’m good.”
Love is patient.
Woodhall’s gold medal required a lot of it.
A little over a year ago, at the 2023 World Para Athletics Championships in Paris, he had his heart broken. He sat on the white road marker, sunk down, crying. Forced to withdraw from the final of the 400 meter T62 race. Robbed of glory by dysfunction.
During warm-ups, a bolt came loose on his prosthetic. Despite the efforts to repair it, the leg separated when he practiced from the block. Another runner tried to help his distraught opponent. But everything was bad. Woodhall was out of the world championships, moments before the final. Years of training and preparation poured out of him on the cerulean path.
However, he got exactly what he needed. His wife ran from the stands. To hug him. Cry with him. To remind him that he was not alone. As he sat on the track, sideways, overcome with devastation to cover the most difficult meeting of his life, his wife knelt beside him. Her arms around his neck. Her hands rubbing his head. Her eyes, under a pink hat, filled with his pain.
“Tara was on the side of the track waiting for me,” Woodhall said. “I watched that race blow up without being able to run it. She was right there with me. It reset me, literally, to get to where I am.”
Thus began a journey, one that saw Woodhall step up his game. He fixed his prosthetics, a malfunction he blamed on his wishful diligence, and won a protracted battle with the International Olympic Committee to approve his new prosthetics. He also locked himself in like never before. The small exits he gave himself, the discipline and extra effort required by greatness, became his modus operandi. As Woodhall described it, it is vulnerable to give it all. It’s scary to face the harsh truth that your all is not enough. Subconsciously, Woodhall said, an athlete, a person, will avoid the complete submission, leaving an excuse to justify the failure.
His life with Tara taught him the value of going all in – together. The reward far outweighs the risk.
Friday, he was back in his favorite race. Only 400 meters of glory. This time his expectations were greater. His fame was greater. The stakes were higher. And he had his inspiration by looking in the crowd. Piercing his ears with the word that locks him in and brings out his best.
“She’ll yell, ‘Execute!’ he said. “She says other things, but I don’t want to say those.”
Love is kind. Love does not envy.
The world heard Woodhall’s words for Tara when she won Olympic gold. In the same stadium last month, she posted two jumps longer than seven meters, more than enough to secure her first Olympic gold medal and title as the best female long jumper in the world.
And when it was finally a reality that she was the winner, she punctuated her signature success by jumping into her husband’s arms.
His arms pressed against her torso. His forehead pressed against hers. His eyes filled with her wonder.
“Love is the support,” said Tara. “He supports me every day. Without that, I don’t think I could be in the position I’m in today.”
It was a picture of why this couple captured the Olympics. Why are they a completely unique couple and yet unmistakably relatable.
Tara Davis-Woodhall is a phenomenon. She is a fierce competitor. She attacks the runway with determination, and the speed of a sprinter, so stubborn as to defy gravity. And the camera just can’t get enough of her bubbly energy and raspy charm. Her smile exudes slumber party fun and her eyes sparkle with spontaneity. She could stand next to the biggest stars in the world, all 5-foot-4 of her, and earn her fair share of attention.
And her husband loves it. No one will out-enjoy, out-appreciate, out-worship Tara.
“There’s just no one who works as hard, no one more disciplined,” he said. “She makes it easy to love her and support her. And she does the same for me.”
They turned their mutual admiration into a profitable brand. Sports athletes, especially Paralympians, tend to have a ceiling on their earning potential due to their cyclical importance. They work as hard as any athlete, perform feats just as impressive. Their sport, however, does not reap the massive prize money given to some other athletes.
The Woodhalls changed their trajectory by refusing to exist in the window of their sport. They left college early, turned professional, and defied the established measurement of their worth. They created their own paradigm of value. By refusing to be more than times and feats. Letting people in. Bankrolling each other.
Loves like theirs do exist. You just don’t see them often. Not in sports. Not so intentionally transparent. That’s why the 457 videos on his YouTube channel have gained 387 million views and 870,000 subscribers. Plus another 158 million likes on TikTok. And another 6.6 million followers on TikTok, Instagram and Snapchat.
The pair has an endorsement with Lululemon, the headliner in a stream of supporters looking to capitalize on their magnetism. The Woodhalls have a massive audience that is growing, much bigger than one might expect for a long jumper and Paralympian.
“I don’t understand why people relate to us like that,” Woodhall said. “Or why they support us as much as they do. I’m just grateful. “We’re just going to continue being ourselves, being authentic, being who we are. It’s cool.”
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
In 2017, at a track meet in Idaho, Tara Davis walked up to Hunter Woodhall, a man she didn’t know, and offered him a hug. Because he looked like he needed one.
The meeting became more. Woodhall had sweats when they first met. Only later will she learn that he is a double amputee. Some women have stated on social media how a first date at The Cheesecake was a deal breaker. However, Tara was undaunted.
“Absolutely,” she said. “I don’t look at people because of their looks or what they have going for them. I look at their heart. He was handsome! He was handsome! But falling in love with him, and his personality and his soul, that’s what really stood out the most.”
That’s basically all you need to know about Woodhall’s rizz. He didn’t even have to pull Tara.
“She came to me,” he said. “She fired her shot.”
The Syracuse, Utah-raised Woodhall was 11 months old when both of his legs were amputated. He was never expected to walk due to fibular hemimelia, being born without a fibula or deformed. But the decision to amputate was his saving grace.
He wore prosthetic legs before joining his school’s track team and switching to carbon fiber blades. A constant target of teasing and bullying, running was therapy and community. And Woodhall was quick. By senior year, he was one of the fastest in the nation in the 400 meters. He signed a scholarship with the University of Arkansas, becoming the first double amputee to earn a Division I scholarship in athletics.
That’s when he met Tara. He was ready for the love of his life, tempered by the harshness of life.
“I feel like I’ve had a lack of love,” Woodhall explained. “Growing up, going to school… I saw the other side of things. How bad people can be. How painful people can be. I felt it taught me empathy.”
They were engaged in 2021. They married in October of 2022. They became a force in sports in 2024.
On Friday, Woodhall added another chapter to their epic story. They are both gold medalists. The best in the world at their main sport.
He could run this race with every fiber of his being and compete from a place of safety and peace. Because before winning, he had already won. Because he has Tara and Tara has him, and together they cannot but win.
Love never fails.
(Top photo of Tara Davis-Woodhall and Hunter Woodhall celebrating her long jump gold medal at the Paris Olympics: Patrick Smith/Getty Images)