Warning: long [and probably boring] post

For anyone who enjoys running, you will know the exhilirating feeling that it provides. For me, sprinting was my first love and as a child I used to run to school, run back home [a good 5 miles in some instances] and I ran for the sheer enjoyment it provided. Why walk through a bush path [I'm Australian] when you could run? I just loved it. It made me feel good and to be honest, it was really that simple.

And I could run fast. Faster than all of the kids in my class, faster than any of the kids in my year level, faster than most of the kids in the school, even those much older and taller than me. Sports Days were fantastic. I was able to run in relay teams, sprint events, open events against anyone and everyone, and competition was healthy and well-embraced. We supported one another - even our rivals - and we appreciated the efforts that the person had put in to even take part. Winning wasn’t everything!

I ran in other sports too, in soccer and in rugby - where I played on the right wing and just waited with gritted teeth for that ball to finally reach my hands. I would tuck it against my abdomen and run as fast and furiously as I could toward the try line. Sure, I was king-hit time and time again and the black bruises would take weeks to heal, but in those moments when I evaded a tackle and I ran to the try line to score, I can still think of no greater feeling.

And as I grew stronger and my body peaked in my teenager years, I went on to be the fastest runner in my secondary school, fastest runner in the district and the world was just beginning to open for me before illness [pleuresy and pneumonia] halted my climb. But for me, running was never about the glory. What’s more, I was usually the laughing stock at many sporting events between schools, where I would show up in my hand-me-down shorts and simple T-Shirt, no big sports-branded clothing of any description and what shocked and made them laugh the most - I ran in bare feet. My parents were poor and with a huge family it just wasn’t possible for me to have expensive shoes, but in reality, that was not the reason I ran bare-footed anyway. I wanted to do this. I enjoyed running in this way and never wanted to run in shoes. Running, for me at any rate, was all about freedom. The faster I ran, the more liberation and sense of freedom I experienced.

I joined an athletic team at the age of 14 and I hated it. I hated it with a passion! Everyone told me that the experience of the trainers and learning all about technique, how to get the most out of your body with daily training routines, learning how to get that extra millisecond from your starting stance and wearing proper running attire, would help me to run faster and be a proper representative of the sport. I still hate the whole concept even now. I didn’t need fancy clothing, or to know that by standing with my left foot forward and crouched at 56 degress would make a difference. I would stand at the starting line, YES - stand up straight, and whilst all the others would be wearing their shiny athletic costumes and crouched ready n the starting blocks, I would be this tall, geeky kid with white shorts and white T-Shirt. The odds on favourite to come last every time. And yet, I won. I only ever lost a few races in competition and it was certainly not because of my technique or my clothing or my bare feet.

And most of the other runners, especially in district competetions, hated me for winning. How could this ugly kid with no style, no sponsors or branding of any kind, and obviously POOR - beat them in a race? It was just too much for them to cope with and because of this, one guy in particular, my arch rival - tried everything to make sure I did not beat him.

It had been a state athletics day and was the show-down for who would be respresenting the state in the state finals. There were heats and sub-heats and finals and qualifying times. It was all bit too technical for me to be honest and I just wanted to run and do my best and then go home. The stands were absolutely packed with spectators and there was this new running surface which was supposed to make it so that everyone could run even faster. I didn’t like it too much as it tended to be too harsh on my bare feet. It was a fantastic feeling winning each of my heats though with a huge noise from the crowd cheering us all on in every race. I doubt they were cheering for me, but who knows, someone might have I guess.

The finals took all day to arrive and I was a finalist in the 50 metre sprint, the 100 metre sprint, the 200 metre sprint and the 100 metre team relay. I was tired from all the heats but glad I had made it through. The other guys in our team relay asked me to drop out of one of the events so I wouldn’t be too tired for the relay event - the last event for me on the day. The team coach though, was absolutely medal hungry and told them I was going in to all the events, no matter what happened.

As it all panned out, I won my 50 metre race [even though I am sure the guy beside me was in front] and I had to stand on a podium with everyone looking at us as they played our school and district songs. I hated it and wished I had pockets and a jacket with a hood, but anyway, it was a great feeling to win the race.

The hardest event for me was the 200 metres. I found it tough because short sprints were my favourite, but I had actually trained hard and surprisingly, had done really well in the heats, winning easily each time. Even the coach was surprised, thinking I would drop out of it early on in the day. I came Second in the end but I was over the moon to have even made it into the final. A First and a Second. The coach was starting to treat me like a son. I tried to hide from him because he was getting on my nerves, telling me I had to stand this way, run that way, do this - do that. I just closed my eyes and imagined I was running through the bush close to my home. It was my favourite spot and where I liked to run the most and the fastest.

So the BIG event for me finally arrived. The 100 metre sprint. My arch rival, a guy from the school closest to ours, had made it through too and we were only two places apart. I had the outside lane, lucky for me - I loved it - and he was in Lane 6. He came up to me just before the race and stood on my toes with his spiked shoes and told me he was going to thrash me [meaning he was going to beat me easily]. I was really cheesed that he had hurt my foot, but this was too big a race to worry about. And so we lined up. I chose not to use any blocks [the only one in the race not doing so] but just as we were waiting for the starting gun, I felt a tap on my shoulder and an official asked me to step back - I was not allowed to race. I remember my ‘friend’ in Lane 6 just grinning at me and the crowd making a lot of noise [what sounded like laughing to me] as the official told me that there had been a complaint and I was not allowed to enter the race because I had no shoes. My coach had arrived on the scene by now and was threatening the official with everything he could think of and then told me I would HAVE to wear shoes. Another official came over and said to get it sorted in 2 minutes or I was out of the race permanently, so I borrowed some shoes from somebody - no idea who - and they let me back into the race. I was embarrassed, felt the blood in my shoes dripping between my toes where Lane 6 had stepped on my foot, and had all but given up any chance of doing well in the race.

But this is where I think that the most important thing in anything we do and we want to do well, we have to enjoy it to do our best. I ran the hardest I have ever run in my life and when I finally crossed that 100 metre finish line I had absolutely no idea how I had done. I was actually feeling even more embarrassed because as I had taken off from the starting line, I must have been putting in so much effort, all I remembered doing was expelling large amounts of flatulence as I took off.

I won!

I couldn’t believe it when they told me and handed me the card and told me to go to the officals. Even now, years later it still feels like a blurred dream. I don’t even remember standing on the podium. All I do remember is the feeling of sheer exhaustion and all of my athletics team coming around me and all treating me like their best friend. A winner and a star. The coach told me later that it was my arch rival who had put in the official complaint so my coach had taken those shoes I wore and presented them to him as a present. I never saw him again, because it was soon after that my pleuresy and pneumonia hit me and stopped me from running again, but I must admit, I wish now that I could have looked him in the eye and grinned like he did at me before the race.

We came Third in the 100 metre relay race but I was never blamed for us not winning. In fact, I was the last leg and brought us from Sixth to Third which felt almost as good to me as winning the 100 Metre Sprint.

Looking back at it all, I have never known whether I would have gone on to bigger and greater things. I dropped out because of my health and by the time I was well again - about 18 months in total - my life had changed. I still ran by myself but I never really wanted to go back to the athletics club and as happens in life, it became a thing of the past.

I guess all of this has come back to me after reading about the upcoming Olympics. The political fighting and talk of boycotts is the main topic at the moment. As I sit here though, I just hope that such a huge event could actually have a little bit of smaller scale ‘friendly’ rivalry between competitors and not be so hinged on hype, sponsorships and the WIN, WIN, WIN attitude that is so strong from the media and spectators in general. I saw a movie years ago called Chariots of Fire, and although I do not remember all the details now, I do remember thinking to myself as I watched it - this is what the competition is all about. Simply doing what you want to do and doing your best!

It seems like an impossible dream now to think that the Olympics will be anything but a huge mix of money-motivated, sponsor driven attitudes from so many of the athletes, but I still have hope that there are some athletes who are in the olympics because they love what they do and that it is all about enjoying their chosen event rather than any other motivation at all.