* Editor's note: A renowned Olympian of the past overcame great obstacles to achieve her goals.
No one expected such a tiny girl to have a first birthday. In Clarksville, Tenn., in 1940, life for a baby who weighed just over four pounds at birth was sure to be limited.
But most babies didn't have 19 older brothers and sisters to watch over them. Most babies didn't have a mother who knew home remedies and a father who worked several jobs.
Most babies weren't Wilma Rudolph.
Wilma did celebrate her first birthday, and everyone noticed that as soon as this girl could walk, she ran or jumped instead.
She worried people, though -- she was always so small and sickly. Just before Wilma turned five, she got sicker than ever. During that sickness, Wilma's left leg twisted inward, and she couldn't move it back. Not even Wilma's mother knew what was wrong.
The doctor came to see her then. Besides scarlet fever, he said, Wilma had also been stricken with polio. In those days, most children who got polio either died or were permanently crippled. There was no cure.
The news spread around Clarksville. Wilma, that lively girl, would never walk again.
But Wilma kept moving any way she could. By hopping on one foot, she could get herself around the house, to the outhouse in the backyard, and even, on Sundays, to church.
Wilma's mother urged her on. Twice every week, she and Wilma took the bus to the nearest hospital that would treat black patients, some 50 miles away in Nashville.
Doctors and nurses at the hospital helped Wilma do exercises to make her paralyzed leg stronger. At home, Wilma practiced them constantly, even when it hurt.
To Wilma, what hurt most was that the local school wouldn't let her attend because she couldn't walk. Tearful and lonely, she watched her brothers and sisters run off to school each day, leaving her behind. Finally, tired of crying all the time, she decided she had to fight back -- somehow.
Wilma worked so hard at her exercises that the doctors decided she was ready for a heavy steel brace. With the brace supporting her leg, she didn't have to hop anymore. School was possible at last.
One Sunday, on her way to church, Wilma felt especially good. She and her family had always found strength in their faith, and church was Wilma's favorite place in the world. Everyone she knew would be there -- talking and laughing, praying and singing. It would be just the place to try the bravest thing she had ever done.
She hung back while people filled the old building. Standing alone, the sound of hymns coloring the air, she unbuckled her heavy brace and set it by the church's front door. Taking a deep breath, she moved one foot in front of the other, her knees trembling violently. She took her mind off her knees by concentrating on taking another breath and then another.
Whispers rippled throughout the gathering: Wilma Rudolph was walking. Row by row, heads turned toward her as she walked alone down the aisle. Her large family, all her family's friends, everyone from high school -- each person stared wide-eyed. The singing never stopped; it seemed to burst right through the walls and into the trees. Finally, Wilma reached a seat in the front and began singing too, her smile triumphant.
Wilma practiced walking as often as she could after that, and when she was 12 years old, she was able to take off the brace for good.
After years of sitting on the sidelines, Wilma couldn't wait to throw herself into basketball, the game she had most liked to watch. In high school, she led her basketball team to one victory after another. Eventually, she took the team all the way to the Tennessee state championships. There, to everyone's astonishment, her team lost.
But at the game that day was a college coach. He admired Wilma's basketball playing but was especially impressed by the way she ran. He wanted her for his track-and-field team.
With his help, Wilma won a full athletic scholarship to Tennessee State university. She was the first member of her family to go to college.
Eight years after she mailed the brace away, Wilma's long legs and years of hard work carried her thousands of miles from Clarksville, Tenn. The summer of 1960 she arrived in Rome, Italy, to represent the United States at the Olympic Games -- as a runner.
Grabbing the attention of the whole world, Wilma Rudolph of the United States won the 100-meter dash. No one else even came close.
So when it was time for the 200-meter dash, Wilma's graceful long legs were already famous. Her ears buzzed with the sound of the crowd chanting her name. At the crack of the starting gun, she surged into the humid air like a tornado. When she crossed the finish line, she had done it again. She finished far ahead of everyone else. She had earned her second gold medal.
The 400-meter relay race was yet to come. Wilma's team faced the toughest competition of all. And as the fourth and final runner on her team, it was Wilma who had to cross the finish line. By a fraction of a second, she was the first to blast across the finish line. The thundering cheers matched the thundering of her own heart. She had made history. She had won for an astounding third time.
Wilma Rudolph, once known as the sickliest child in Clarksville, had become the fastest woman in the world.
Text copyright c 1996 by Kathleen Krull. Illustration copyright c 1996 by David Diaz. Reproduced by permission of Harcourt.