Sounds of the Gun. And hear the word...GO

His thoughts

One: that is one marriage break-up I never thought would happen under the strain of this work. But, hey that's the way it goes sometimes in that everything has ‘give'. Only in this case it was not the elastic in my shorts or the laces in my running shoes but my marriage. She was bored anyway, she just liked the body and not the idea of resting and travelling. She really wanted to shop and shop she did for another fella. He was not an athlete but would be able to satisfy when needed, and not have to show discipline when faced with a naked female. I have my doubts sometimes... but running for me was the most important thing and she was a second... hate to say it but yes.

"Two... It's a fast race and the pack is strong."

Two: that was the number of bones I broke in my foot in the last year. That last year was really tough on the marriage and me really. For her it was the last straw and it was not nice. I broke my bones moving her mother's piano from her house to our new pad. It felt that I was blaming her and her music for turning me into a grumpy and irritable person. To be honest I was one anyway, but she liked the look of me and never really admitted that I was a difficult person until the end when it was so very clear to everybody connected with the idea of ‘us'. I was obsessive but that worked for me. It was what sometimes and often made the difference between me and the rest of the field. Like I said, running was important to me and will be for days like this.

However, a sports injury is psychologically tough for athletes to handle. It is a period of inactivity, which can result in depression, and the real lack of self-esteem that goes with it. I was no different and probably worse to be around. I got my confidence from winning and knowing I was good. I would feel good in myself that I was also doing something I knew I had a talent for. This was brought to a halt by my girlfriend and her piano. I resented her often for this, I wish in those periods she left me. She did not, she clung to me like baby. She said she loved me but I knew she was shallow. She liked being seen with me, and the glamour of being noticed was what she would have missed. I always knew that, I should have resented myself for having the weakness not to leave her when I knew the magic had started to wane.

" Three... there is a slight edge for lane 4 from America."

Of course Mr Focus of lane four was starting to edge ahead. It wasn't always like this. The first time I ever faced him in a race he was a thin long bean and looked like he was running in the wrong distance. But in that first race he showed real talent. I beat him but only just, he came second but gave all the favoured ones including me at that time, a real scare. He was always a quiet person, maybe shy but often mistaken for arrogance. I mean he was not the most approachable of people, I did try but he just seemed to sit there and make no real connection. There was not even a level of even trying from him. After three sentences I gave up and went to talk to my coach, who could hold a conversation. I thought that, maybe he could not speak English but he was American right?

I did not like the American boys that much. They always had a real expectation that they would be there or there abouts. I knew and everybody else from the circuit that they were always spoilt with the best training facilities and they best-looking girlfriends. They all looked like ‘barbie' figures with the perfect figure and smile. My one abused me with her piano, no chance that would ever happen to them, at all. Boy I envied them all, even the bad ones, they did have a better existence than the rest of us. Mr Focus was edging ahead and he was a strong runner, no personality, but he had talent. Like me, this race was loaded for him, as it was for the rest of us. But we have all suffered in the name of the art of running. I had the story to tell, but only if I won would anyone be interested. No-one likes a loser, myself included, which was why I decided to up the pace.

" Four... the outside lane for Great Britain is making a fight of it."

Great Britain now that's a story. My mother came from Trinidad and had a real problem in obtaining citizenship in the Mother country. Why they called it that god alone knows, would a mother treat you like an unwanted? Well actually some do don't they? But really I would have got the message and really returned home. But my mother wanted to be here, She had a real attachment to England that I could not really understand. I was the first born and after my Dad disappeared was the only child she had. Being from a Black single mother and in London attending school was a very humbling experience. The stereotype of being a problem was always there. I had three fights but apparently they were all my fault. Indeed they were in retaliation but since I was from a non-nuclear family and despite the concept of racism being accepted, it was my fault and the result of poor mothering from the backward country. Some assumption from the motherland that was!

However, although I would hate to say that I rised to the stereotype, one did indeed work for me. They looked at me when I was showing a real physique, and got me a trial. They had never, ever shown me much attention before that. However, after the first race I received plenty. I guess it was a nice experience as well. I kind of enjoyed it. It was good to be acknowledged for something that I found easy. But my mother called it talent. I mean, talent at running whatever next, talent for walking? But, I knew I was fast and won many races at district and county level. The national competitions were where I learnt to run in the professional sense, since to win those was not always easy. However, running for Great Britain after the experience my mother and I had had, was not something I was ever comfortable with.

" Five seconds... its shaping up to being between Great Britain and America..."

The mid distance, and this was the race that was seen as the ‘peak' of my career. However, it did not feel like it at all. I had injury after injury after the piano folly. The foot never really healed properly at all. It did feel like it never would. I would come back to full fitness and the foot would break down again at some stage. It was a real problem. One year of injury and surgery and that still could not guarantee that I would be able to run with any level of consistency. It was difficult to develop any rhythm in my running at all. Even in the build up to these games it was a problem, but here in this tournament I had been able to last the heats; the semis and now it appeared this race. I was really feeling physically good. But I have had this feeling before. It made me nervous just thinking about it.

" Six seconds and Trindad and Tobago is staring to emerge in the race in lane 8..."

Boy this was turning into some race indeed. Trinidad and Tobago? I considered running for them but I felt not really that much akin to the country when I visited. They treated me like a foreigner and sometimes worse. I felt like I was treated like a traitor to the country and it was just rubbing their noses in it by coming back and spending money. Also,I knew the competition for places to compete was tougher than in Britain, it was obviously poorer and therefore would only send people who they would not regret sending. Britain on the other hand was the land of opportunity. It was not a hard choice for me but something I considered only because the country I belonged to made me feel like it did not want me before I started running. Really I knew despite the problems with identity and stereotyping I have experienced, Britain was my home. I could not run for any other. It would be to say the less ‘odd'.

" Seven seconds and a pack of three are breaking away from the rest..."

This was a fast race indeed and I started to feel the pain in my legs and more importantly in my foot. I really did not want to come undone now. There had been too much pain and heartache for this to even be a possibility. I needed to dig in and find that inner strength and stamina. I was running well, despite the outside lane and running in an unfocussed way I knew that I was moving smoothly and felt Mr Focus near me. I knew I had a chance and it needed everything I had. The last time I did this and ‘dug in' was playing football at school and we where one-nil up against the league leaders, surprisingly so, it had to be said. I was marking the play-maker. He was excellent, and had stamina to go the full ninety minutes, I knew that I did not. But I dug in and came through. We won but I never played again, as I could not walk for three days and missed the first races of the season that year. I never made the county team as a result. I knew to play football would be detrimental at what I was really good at. But it taught me the concept of ‘digging in' could I do it?

" Eight seconds and the medal positions at looking clear but who has what, is not at all..."

This was a strain but it was all I knew I could do since I was young. I did not show any talent at all in anything else really apart from art. I did my A level only because the girl I had a crush on was doing it as well. I did not realise I could draw until then. But give me a naked body with creases and I can pick out the shadowing and texture of it and illustrate this well in a drawing. But it was relaxing, and the girl became my girlfriend for a few months but she was cerebral and wanted to talk politics all the time. I wanted to do something else, especially when I was with her. She became bored of me, and my art career finished there and then.

" Nine seconds it soooo close but Great Britain is there."

The dip... remember the all important dip. It can make the difference in almost any race. I remember Toronto, Sheffield, London, and now here. It made me the winner when things were always close. It was the one thing in running I had mastered in time and pose. I needed to use it here. I had given everything, this was going to be a photo finish and I had to make good.

" nine piont nine five with a photo finish... well it could be anybody's really"

Yes indeed... it could be but lets hope my dip was enough. I need to look at the finish again, but the foot did not give. Was it all worth it? Under ten seconds this season first time for me and for Mr Focus. I guess it was.