David Burnett, of Contact Press Images, has photographed seven summer Olympics. He has previously been featured on Lens for his books on Iran and on Bob Marley as well as his photographs during the launch of Apollo 11. He spoke with James Estrin last week. Their conversation has been edited.

You had an auspicious debut in your first Olympics in Los Angeles in 1984. Your photo of Mary Decker (Slide 13) is one of the most iconic sports images. Tell me about it.

I don’t think there’s going to be many more. Not that there won’t be good pictures taken. But we are in an age of visual overload. I don’t think there’s going to be another Olympic picture that is going to get that kind of run.

I’d been shooting track for a whole week from a lot of different locations, up high and low, but a lot of it from the finish line. I was just so tired of standing next to these guys that had these big tripods with 11 cameras attached to them and remote wires going up to cameras with 400-millimeter lenses — I needed a breath of fresh air. I picked up my stuff and walked down the track. There were two photographers sitting at one bench, next to where the crowd was, and a spot for somebody else.

The 3,000 final came up. This was the big race of the week: Mary Decker would win the gold medal that had been denied her when the U.S. decided to skip [the previous] games. The other big story was Zola Budd, running barefoot, who couldn’t run for South Africa because it was banned from international competition.

The 3,000 is seven-and-a-half laps, and I had a really good shot of turn four with a 400-millimeter lens.

As Zola makes her move, around the fifth lap I shoot with the 400, then pick up the 85 as they start to go by me. Zola tries to pass Mary. Mary comes down hard, trips and falls over the edge.

Thing is, I couldn’t tell in detail what was going on, but I know what’s supposed to happen,  that they’re going to run through my frame and keep going. And I’m seeing that Mary is not doing that, and I look down after I’ve shot some frames with the 85. And I see her lying there, and I immediately grab the 400, brought that up to my eye and I honestly remember taking an extra millisecond saying to myself, “Make sure you’re sharp.” I kind of focused on her eye, and I made seven or eight frames.

The nurse came over, Mary was kind of laying down, and then there’s that one frame where she’s looking down the track. It’s one of those things that I just got lucky, and I didn’t screw up. It’s about being lucky and not screwing up, and trying to be ready for some moment if you happen to be the right place.

“David Burnett. He didn’t screw up.”

I’ll take that.

I would take that also. So you shoot more Olympics waiting for your magic moment to happen in front of you again. Then, you started looking at this differently, right?

I don’t do a lot of sports coverage in between the Olympics. For me, it’s more than a sports event. I’m always trying to make some bigger contextual view of it. Also the way I shoot and how I shoot have evolved. By 1996 and 2000, I was shooting a lot of medium format, and trying to get a picture when you have only one chance to push the button. By 2004, I was shooting with the speed graphic. That was really just fun, a lot of misses, mostly misses. Every now and then, everything would work right and you would guess where someone would be.

But why did you do that? It’s like deciding to shoot the Olympics with two arms tied behind your back. What was your point?

Just trying to do something that would make my pictures a bit more special for me.

So this was partly for your entertainment, partly hoping to do something different?

The thing is, I’ve always liked new kinds of hardware because they give me another way to look at something. They help me see something in a little different way.

I’m still having fun with the speed graphic. I look back at the pictures from the ’20s and ’30s and wonder how they got any pictures at all with the super-slow film and lenses. And they did a great job.

I want to come up with something as timeless and classic.

Every now and then, my pictures kind of get me there. So many good people have been shooting sports for so long, it’s tough to think of something that hasn’t been done, or do it in a way that no one has done before.

I feel like there’s just a million things to still try. I still love shooting with a Holga and with the 4×5. The hardest thing, no matter the gear, is to force yourself to see things in a slightly different way. And don’t go to the finish line, go to the third turn where nothing ever happens and try to make a picture there.

This time, in London, you’re not on a magazine assignment.

I’ll be shooting for the International Olympic Committee’s museum in Lausanne. It’s a cool assignment because I get to go shoot what I want.

They have a gigantic photo archives — especially going back to the early days of the Olympics. I’ll get to do a fair amount of track, I’ll do swimming and diving and equestrian.

What cameras will you bring to London?

I’m not sure, but I’ll bring the 4×5. One of the difficulties of a 4×5 is always remembering to do everything in the right order. You’ve got to focus, close the shutter, cock the shutter, put the film in, pull the dark slide and hope that you haven’t actually shot that film before. Then put the dark slide back in, you flip it so the black edge is out that says, “I’ve been shot, don’t shoot me again.”

There’s no room for a mistake with a 4×5. Maybe it should be an Olympic sport: photographing moving events with a 4×5.

I always remind people that every four years it’s the photographers’ Olympics, too. You have the best photographers in the world, all in one place, shooting the same thing.

You know what happens on the last Saturday night of the Olympics, right?

They have a closing ceremony.

No, that’s Sunday night. Saturday night, at the end of the last event at track and field, we put all of our equipment down in one of those carved-out paths on the side of the track, and some photographers run a lap. I’ve done it five times now.

What’s your time?

My time is… pretty much, I finish before Sunday. 400 meters. Five New York blocks.

Do you train for this?

You know, not really, other than just the previous two weeks of shlepping heavy gear.

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