The Daddy

 
“Go….”
 
I was off and I knew that I had to find some kind of rhythm and fast. I was never going to be in the pack with a chance unless that was the case. I was nearing thirty and this was now so much a young person’s game. However, I had pedigree in the sprints and had shown my class. This final was seen as my last swan song. The bastards... I will make the press run for their lives after these ten seconds ( Or less) have been experienced.
 

I began concentrating on my breathing and arm movement. It was important for me as stated to gain a sense of rhythm early on. I was always very visual and needed to see my arms pumping up and down to influence my breathing and then everything would hopefully click. Or so I hoped.

 
Mr focus was already gaining ground on me and was in the lead at this point. But I knew if I could see and think about him, I was not focussed enough… remember… rhythm… rhythm…. Rhythm.
 
I could feel myself getting into my stride and I was making a fight of it. Here I was, the daddy of the pack and I was in it, although Mr focus and another were too far for me... I could hang in on there.
 
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“ Hang on in there…. Fucking hell… hang on..”
 
What’s going on?
 
“ RTA and this is the worse one…terrible pile up and he is lucky to be alive. Two broken legs…multiple fractures…blood loss excessive and a head injury.. not clear what the damage is GCS unstable.”
 
“Ok in cube three… get some blood … what type is he?”
 
“ Well...I did not ask really… as you know… he is unconscious!”
 
” Never liked you, you smart arse …. Cube three then fuck off, I will take it from there.”
 
That road traffic accident was nearly the end for me. I was badly damaged and that’s what you get from driving fast cars and hanging around with women you don’t really know. I was told I was not focussed on my running, but I had won so many the need for it vanished. I started to enjoy the rewards too much and I knew they were shallow. Ironic really that accident gave me something to fight for…it really did…I wanted to get better and wanted to race again. My imagination had been engaged again. But thanks for that God the inspiration but was it necessary and did it have to hurt quite so much?
 
I took three month to recover to a walking stage. After many CAT scans I was never really sure how badly my head was damaged or more importantly, my brain. But that aside the body recovered quickly. I had to wait for my speech and articulation.
 
Funny but it was so predictable. My girlfriend …or so she called herself vanished. So did my temporary best friend who I drove everywhere, as he was to lazy to walk and vain enough to realise that walking just did not look cool. Twat.
 
The only one who came was my brother and he was my rock through this crisis.Visiting every day, talking to me and passing on his wisdom. His wisdom was blunt and really, sensitive was not a word I think he knew.
 
“ Fast cars and loose women… was the sex that girl gave you worth it? Really, they have better looking women on porn websites now… you can do it at home… and that’s safer that driving that jet engine car you had.”
 
Yes, well…he had a point. Maybe I will buy a computer soon.
 
Anyway the pain was really bad and I had intense speech therapy and physio to get better. It has to be said, the NHS and the medical professions are all saints really. They really helped me recover. At times it seemed that they wanted it more than me…they realty needed it to work to show their skills could change people’s lives. I knew they were doing that just by being there and encouraging me. 
 
“ You may never be what you were… but you will walk again soon. I am not sure about the damage to your brain. The CT scans were inconclusive really. I wish you all the best.”
 
“ Thanks Doc… but really I will me fine.”
 
Funny that…I knew I would be OK but there was no guarantee. But I was confident for some reason.
 
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I was in a good rhythm now I could feel the joints working and the arms moving in perfect symmetry and I was feeling good…after so long the will to compete and see if I am the best was there again and it was that feeling I had from leaving the hospital. Nine tenths of any race is all in the mind and mine was lost for years in all the crap things that do not matter. The car thet crashed into me was the psychological kick up the arse I needed. It bought me here. I was moving well now. Would it me enough?
  
I had won races from the back before…but I really wanted it bad then. It was not the same when you have won so many. The really hard part, I found was staying ahead of the young guys coming up. It was tough really and when I lost a few that was it. I could have trained harder and harder…but I thought I was losing the talent really.
 
“ You always need to work hard at anything. To be the best you need to be really talented and also work hard. You are one of those.”
 
My coach always thought I was lazy, but talent should be enough should it not? Or maybe he thought I was a hard worker without the talent…maybe but I don’t think so. 
 
I needed to remember the last straight is all about the push and the dip…it was starting to open up now and I was in a medal position but only just. It was be so magical if I got one… but running with this talent was enough for me. Only my desire and ego wanted more … I needed to dig deep and push…push harder this will be it for me.
 
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Commentator
 
“What a race… really and the daddy of the pack was in there… after all he has been through… well …unbelievable that he can run like that now. He was really in there in the pack. What a race… and it is still anybody’s… a photo finish for sure.”
 
That’s me… the daddy and I was in there… again and that felt so good…again.