Weirwolf (15 page)

Being back there made me so happy. I felt like a
world-class
athlete. They loved working with me and would bend over backwards to help me. I told Nick what I’d done and he said my shoulders simply couldn’t take what the UKA coaches had been telling me to do. We had to figure out other ways to build my shoulder up without weights. I did a lot of chin-ups and core stuff and had really heavy physio right up until Christmas. Slowly but surely I started to get
that range of movement in my arm back. I cancelled all my autumn races, even turning down the chance to defend my title in the New York Marathon. Peter was disappointed, as he had expected me to compete. I just couldn’t win. The year before he had blamed New York for my injury; now, when I was still fighting that same injury, he was encouraging me to go to America and compete. I just ignored him. My winter training programme was way more important than another win in New York.

All the rows left me feeling as sore as my shoulder. It became such a battle. I kept asking myself, ‘Do UK Athletics not want me to win in London?’

If they did then they had to let me get on with it my way and trust the people I have always trusted. I wasn’t asking for thousands of pounds, and after a while I accepted that I felt I would never get treated the same way as the
able-bodied
guys. For whatever reason, I was being singled out. It just made me even more determined to follow my own course and to work even harder with Jenny to make sure I proved them all wrong in London.

I
t’s five minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve 2011. I am sitting with Emily, Mason and a few of Emily’s friends in my living room, watching the TV. Although I am no longer a big drinker, in any other year I might have had a couple of drinks by now. Nothing too heavy, just a few to get in the mood. But not this year. I am stone-cold sober, glued to the telly waiting for the fireworks. As Big Ben strikes twelve, London’s skyline explodes colourfully into life. It’s all accompanied by the music from
Chariots of Fire
, the tune which would become the soundtrack to Great Britain’s Olympic and Paralympic summer.

After ten minutes or so, the fireworks finish, I turn the TV off and put Mason to bed. I then turn in myself. No point in staying up. I have an interview with TalkSport Radio first thing in the morning and, although I’m not training tomorrow, I will be back out there on 2 January. I don’t want to take any chances. I want to make the most of
every day I have before the Games start. Suddenly, after all the build-up and all the waiting, it’s here.

Richmond Park is the sort of place most people go to for fun. Not me. It’s my office. The place I go to do business most days. I love being there early in the morning when it’s deserted and the sun is just coming up.

But that winter it was a harsh place to be. Some days it was minus ten. I would sit there in my car before a training session, thinking, ‘What am I doing here?’

Then I thought about all my rivals training and knew that if I didn’t perform at the Games then I would end up blaming it on that one session I missed. I couldn’t risk it. So I would do whatever I could, even if it was only five or six miles. I have always hated training in the winter – I can’t stand the snow and frost. But during that winter there were some days when I simply couldn’t get warm, when after a while I lost all sense of touch in my hands. It didn’t matter, though, because at least you had done something. It’s only when you get on the podium at a Paralympics or a World Championships that you realise how important those days are. And it’s only when you get a medal around your neck that you can smile and think back to those horrible winter days in the park. That’s what drove me on that winter, just thinking and dreaming about winning in London.

As 2011 turned to 2012 you could feel the excitement building all the time. Everyone seemed to be talking about it. On New Year’s Day I went on TalkSport’s
Breakfast Show
. I was asked the question that would follow me all the way up to the Games: ‘So how many gold medals are you going to win?’

I had worked out my answer to that one very early on, long before Jenny and I sat down in the autumn and worked out that I would go for four – the 800m, 1,500m, 5,000m and the marathon. I had never got four before and knew it would be hard but I thought I would never have a better chance than in front of my home crowd in my home city. That’s not what I told TalkSport that morning: ‘I will be more than happy if I get one,’ I told them.

I wasn’t lying to them. If I had ended with just the one, I would have been really pleased and proud. Getting one is massive. But I didn’t want to pile even more pressure on myself. If I had said ‘I think I can win four’ then even more people would have hung those gold medals around my neck. So I played it safe and whenever anyone asked me in the run-up to the Games how many I would win, that was the response they got.

The run-up had been plotted well in advance. Having made the decision to quit Lee Valley in September 2011, I knew what I needed to do and when. I was so much happier back at St Mary’s, working with people I really trusted. Those guys really saved me. I spent a lot of time in January working on my strength in the gym and although
I was still quite cautious about my shoulder, it was starting to feel better.

As winter turned to spring, I headed to Portugal for a bit of much-needed sunshine and to test the new £10,000 racing chair which had been designed for me by scientists working for UK Sport and UK Athletics. After the Beijing Paralympics, the head of development at UK Sport came to meet me at St Mary’s. She explained that they had a four-year project and some funding to develop the best cutting-edge technology to help me win in London. She said she could help design new suits and helmets but also a brand-new, state-of-the-art chair for 2012. They even had the guys from British Cycling on board to help develop the technology, and engineers from British Aerospace to test the new kit in wind tunnels to make sure it was as efficient and aerodynamic as possible. It all seemed very impressive.

But I have to admit I had my doubts about the whole thing from the start. I have had meetings with Formula 1 and with universities in the past and, frankly, I had heard it all before. I told her, ‘Look, if it’s going to work then come back in two months and show me something that is going to move forward.’

But she did come back with a plan and it did move forward. It was a great project and I was excited about it. It was all kept very much under wraps.

When I got to see the finished article that April in Portugal, I was really blown away. It was fantastic. The wheels were just something else – the amount of detail
was mind-blowing. It was all black and made from carbon fibre. The cage I sit in was made from aluminium. The axle was all flat and it cut through the wind. The push rims on the wheels were also made of carbon fibre and had a petal design which cleverly locked them in tightly so they couldn’t move. There were two ceramic bearings put in the wheels to align perfect rolling movement. For the first time the wheels were specifically made for us. Normally we use cycling wheels which are adapted. But these were bespoke, all designed and crafted by the best designers and
technicians
at British Cycling. At first the project was just for me. But as time went on, other wheelchair racers were offered the chance to have a new chair designed for them. UK Sport wanted to transfer the marginal-gains approach of British Cycling’s performance director, Dave Brailsford, to the Paralympics. Brailsford had transformed cycling with his close attention to detail. If there was any little change – kit, bikes, diet, supplements, training, where his team stay, what beds they sleep on, anything at all – then he would introduce it to his athletes.

Work had started on the chair in late 2008 and a lot of money, time and effort went into it. But sadly, in the end, I couldn’t use it. It was ready too late. I had told UK Sport that if I was going to adapt to it and get used to it in time for London then I really needed it eighteen months out from the Games. But I was presented with the finished product five months before the Paralympics. I don’t really blame anyone: in the end they had to build three more
chairs – more than they expected – and other people and organisations got involved and interfered.

The problem for me was that the chair just took too long to get up to top speed. So it was slower than my usual chair. The initial acceleration was not there – maybe it was too stiff. There was no flex in the wheels. I will use it at some point, maybe after the 2013 season, because I don’t want to waste it. I felt so bad to reject it given the amount of time and money UK Sport had spent on it. They didn’t say anything when I rejected it, they said ultimately it was all about my performance and if I thought it would hinder that then there was no way I should use it. I still used the suit and the helmet they developed for me, so all their hard work didn’t go entirely to waste. They accepted it was their fault that they had just got it to me too late. But I wish I could have used it. It looked fantastic on the track.

Technology can obviously have a big influence in Paralympic sport – there are big advantages to be gained if you can get the most out of your kit. And the wheelchair athletes have learned a lot from the cyclists – especially technology-wise. Racing chairs have certainly come a very long way since people started competing in hospital chairs back in the 1940s and ’50s.

My chairs are made for me by a company called Draft based in Huntingdon, near Cambridge. They have always been tailor-made and have been adapted and refined over the fifteen years that I have been working with them. By the time I was in my late teens the design had settled on
the one which is so recognisable. Two wheels at the back, a seating cage or pod and then a long frame and set of forks holding a smaller front wheel. By the time Draft were making my chairs most frames were made from lightweight aluminium. But the seating then was very different to what we have now. It was essentially made out of webbing and nylon cloths. This meant it was nice and flexible to sit in – very good for beginners trying to get used to the slightly awkward racing position, where you have to lean right forward. But it moved around a bit too much and you got very tired quite quickly.

By the time of the Beijing Games in 2008 most of the elite athletes had switched to a much better seating cage, which consisted of a welded aluminium plate you could rest your knees on, a solid seat with a small cushioned back rest and a pod in which you could secure your feet to stop them moving about. That is pretty much standard issue now, but no two racing chairs are the same. That’s because every athlete’s impairment dictates the type of adjustments and changes Draft and the other manufacturers have to make.

My physique is pretty square and evenly spread, but others aren’t. Depending on their disability and what side of their body is affected, some could be more muscle bound on their left side than their right, or vice versa. Take, for example, an athlete with an impairment on his left side. If he can’t use that side, or is less able to use it, then he will have muscle wastage. That means the right side of his body will be much bulkier and that the chair will need extra
padding on the left. There are so many different
permutations
and it takes Draft a lot of fine-tuning to get it right.

The other thing that I have developed is a padded ratchet strap across the small of my back. This pulls my hips forward towards my folded legs when I am in the chair. It stabilises my body and makes me much more aerodynamic. In wheelchair racing you are always looking for the
optimum
position which allows you to be as streamlined as possible but still in a sufficiently upright position to push down on the rims of your back wheels. It’s a complex
equation
between power and aerodynamics and I did a lot of testing in wind tunnels in the run-up to the 2012 Games. I found there were huge gains to be had by moving lower and further forward but I also discovered that I couldn’t go too far forward as I started to lose power. Even now I know I am not pushing as hard as I could do in races, but the advantage from the aerodynamics more than compensates for that.

The chair I race in weighs about 9 kilos with the wheels on. Chairs have actually got heavier over the years because the nylon-and-cloth seating was much lighter. Including the metal cage foot pod has added about 1.5 kilos. But chairs need to be heavier because athletes are getting so much more powerful now, and they have to withstand a lot of stress.

On top of the long frame which runs down to the front wheel is a small set of handlebars. There have been various different styles over the years and they can be adapted
for athletes with different levels of hand function but there are essentially two standard shapes. They are
obviously
essential to steer in marathons and other road races but in track racing the handlebars are only there for an emergency. Instead we use a brilliant gadget known as the compensator. It’s housed under the front frame and has two settings – one to go straight, the other for the bend. You might have wondered why you see wheelchair racers
leaning
forward and smashing the right-hand side of their chair, near the front wheel. Well, we are hitting the compensator and by bashing it, you can guide the direction of the front wheel. As you bash it, a screw locks the wheel into the new position. So hit it on the left-hand side to steer left into the bend and the right-hand side to go back the other way as you come out. Before any race meeting I will go round and do a few laps to work out what degree of turn I need to get round the bends. Once I’ve worked that out, I set the compensator to the right angle. It’s a fantastic device and means that I can go on pushing the rims on the back wheels without having to constantly steer around the bends. If we had to do that we would all be going backwards!

If you look at the markings on an athletics track you will see a line in each lane which indicates when the
transition
from straight to bend begins. There is another which indicates the start of the transition from bend to straight. As my front wheel hits the line I whack the compensator and the wheel turns. You would imagine that these tracks are pretty standard, but they aren’t. They can really vary so
you have to get it right in those warm-ups or you could lose precious time on your rivals.

The only other gadget I have on my chair is a cordless speedometer which gives me my current speed and
average
speed for any event. It also gives me the time I started, which is mostly useful for marathons. A lot of the guys use GPS systems, which can track where you are and compare where you were at certain times, but I don’t bother with that. I am more old school in that sense.