Category Archives: Blog

Speed decathlon

At the IAUM Championships, one of my fellow athletes told me about an upcoming “speed decathlon” in Basingstoke. Within 60 mins of starting the first event, you have to begin the last. It sounded completely daft- which appealed to me.

Sadly, entries had closed the previous week, and upon emailing the organisers, I was informed that everything was set up and there was no room at the inn. However, a few weeks later, they got back to me to let me know that Janet (who I had competed with in the tetradecathlon) was injured- and so I could take her place.

With just a week or so’s warning, and with Heathside’s track sessions stopped for the season, I was entirely unprepared. But, I thought- it is only 60 minutes long. How bad can it be? With 6 of the 10 events being field events, perhaps it might not be so tiring as it initially sounded?

In addition to the one-hour decathlon, there was also a 42 minute speed-heptathlon, and a 30-minute decathlon, for the serious sadists. When you know it’s possible for people to do something twice as fast as you are about to attempt- you get the feeling (or at least I did) that perhaps it will be fine after all. A few minutes’ rest between each event, I thought. What an idiot.

On arrival to the track in Basingstoke, I met the other 2 women in my ‘pod’- Linda and Becky. We would compete together- only moving onto the next event when we were all ready to do so. It was their home turf, but it was all of our first decathlons. They had both, however, taken part in a trial run the weekend before. I had no idea what was coming.

We had a time-keeper, travelling round the events with us. She was there to make sure we made it to the start of the 1500m before our hour was up. Two teenage girls from the club pushed our belongings around in a shopping trolley, so we were ready to change from spikes to trainers and back again, double-quick time. It seemed like a luxury before the decathlon began, but I soon realised what a vital role they played in getting us to the end.

I went into the first event confident. 100m- I knew I could win this event. I pushed myself pretty hard, coming first with a comfortable margin- but was for some reason surprised when our timekeeper then hurried us on to long-jump, while I was still gasping for air.

With one practice jump, we all did two competition jumps before agreeing to move onto the next- shot-put. This time I took all 3 attempts, equalling my best of 6.6m. Immediately onto high jump, with a maximum of 6 jumps. The others started lower than I did, and I enjoyed the brief pause before my starting-height was called. Again I was overly cautious, starting at 1.21m (in hindsight, wasting valuable time and energy). I cleared every height at the first attempt, up until my 6th and final jump at 1.36, which I clipped.

Here, I came unstuck. Having done well, and come first (not accounting for age-grading!), in the first 4 events, I was absolutely shattered, and next up was 400m- hardly my forte. I jogged round, 6 seconds slower than in the tetradecathlon (which was hardly fast itself).

This was the point at which we had pre-agreed a ‘long rest’. 4 minutes recovery. I wanted to lie on the ground on the finish line and weep, but our cheerful timekeeper picked us up and got us back to the start line again. I was tired and totally had the grumps by this point. What did I set myself up for? My body, thankfully, was in decent nick, which was more than could be said for Linda as she hobbled back along the straight. I was worried she wouldn’t be able to finish.

Next up was hurdles. This was utterly bizarre, as both Linda and Becky are over 40- thus were racing over 80m, starting at the same time as I began 100m. I desperately tried to catch them but was nowhere near.

In discus I only managed one throw between the lines. Pole vault, I hadn’t yet figured out what to do with the pole once I was over the bar, so earned myself a No Jump. Javelin was slightly more successful than in the tetra, getting the right end in first time, leaving some more attempts to try and (unsuccessfully) put some welly in.

That left only the dreaded final 1500m. We only had to start the event within the hour- not finish it. The pace of the other 9 events had floored me- with zero recovery time save for those 4 minutes before the hurdles; but Becky and somehow a fully-recovered Linda looked fresh on the start-line. Our timekeeper suggested we start a few minutes early, and despite having nothing left, I agreed to go, so as not to hold them back. They dashed off, as I dawdled way behind. After a lap or so, my bumbling jog turned into a walk. Walk, jog, walk, jog. Just as the tetradecathlon had finished with a lame middle-distance pootle, so would this ‘speed’ decathlon.

Geoff, the race organiser ran beside me on the in-field for the final 300m, giving me a bit of a boot-up to jog again, and finally to sprint the last 100m. I finished, 62 minutes after we had begun, with a very modest 2348 points: last place.

Having finished the hour, I could then enjoy the experience- but I must say that within that hour, it was  much worse than I had anticipated. Props to those who competed- especially the half-hour bunch.


Huge thanks to everyone at Basingstoke & Mid Hants Athletics Club- especially Geoff Butler, and the many officials it took to stage the speed combined-events. Until next year…

Since the race…

Following the Ultra MultiEvents champs, I was back to training (albeit a very light session) the following Tuesday. A massage and a huge amount of  food somehow revived my body to make it to our temporary track, and I was very glad I did. Lovely teammates Noelle & Steph made this glorious cake, featuring all 14 tetradecathlon events in confectionary form. Malteaser shot put, Liquorice Allsort hurdles, chocolate button discus and the like. I’ve never seen a more masterful artwork.

I didn’t imagine that the last dawdling 3,000m of the tetradecathlon would be my final race of the season. London Heathside had planned Club Championships for late September, but sadly the new track in Finsbury Park won’t be ready until after many of our number are well into the cross-country season.

I’d planned to do a couple of my usual events there, but also entered pole vault. Strange events make for fewer competitors, so thought I’d give it a go now the tetradecathlon European Champs are out the way.

When I got the email to say the competition had been cancelled, I was already heading to my first pole vault session. Meeting me there were Arron (a professional juggler); Emily (former gymnast & trapeze artist turned high-diver); and Jaime, a fellow Heathsider. Being amidst a bunch of such coordinated people, I quickly found myself the dunce of the group.

Having once almost fallen back into the metal box, and with blood dribbling down my leg having cut myself with my spikes, I eventually just about managed to do the right thing (albeit a metre or two lower than the others).

The session was a lot like the video below, except that we began running with the pole on the track (hard), went on to jump with the pole in a sandpit (scary), before heading in to the pit (hard, fun and scary).

IAUM European Championships

The week before the competition, I barely slept. Every moment not filled with something, my stomach was in knots, thinking about the 14 events ahead, in the European Ultra-Multievents Championships, in Cambridge.

I’d love to say that I was as ready as possible; but there were sizeable gaps in my preparations. I’d picked up a discus for the first time about 2 weeks ago. I failed to compete 4 of the events ahead of time. My aim in the competition was simply not to come last in every event, but going into it, I didn’t feel at all confident of that.

However, with such a daunting task ahead, I tried to see each event as its own competition, and put full welly into each, rather than holding back to try to make it to Sunday evening. Fortunately, the first day held only one of those 4 new events (1500m), alongside some of those I am most comfortable with. First up- 100m hurdles.

Having just met my competitors, I had no idea where I stood before the race. We were 11 in total- 6 in Senior Women category (including myself), 4 veterans and a very brave under-17 girl. There were 10 six-packs on show, and mine was not one of them.

The gun went. I took the first hurdle as awkwardly as ever before getting into a rhythm over the second and third. Then I realised- I wasn’t last. Not even second last. I was towards the front of the pack. I kept the rhythm, clearing each hurdle cleanly. Having competed this event every month since April, it’s one of the few I know well enough to judge my performance before seeing the time, and this felt good. Having set a new PB the previous weekend at 19.3, I hoped to shave another tenth off. When the results came in- I’d taken off nearly four tenths: 18.93.

High jump was a strange one, as we were only allowed a maximum of 6 jumps- making choosing a starting height a tricky business. I played cautiously at 1.24m, but cleared the first 4 heights up to 1.33m on the first attempt. This left just two jumps at 1.36, which I haven’t yet cleared in competition. I clipped the bar both times, and was out of jumps.

1500m was the first of the big bad 4 (the middle distances + 400m hurdles). Based on the one time I tried this in training, I wanted to try 1m58 laps. The other British competitor, Janet, had also said she struggled on the longer distances, and was going to try to pace herself at 2 minutes per lap. I stuck to her like glue until the final lap, when I felt I had more to give. I managed a sprint finish in the last 100m, shaving 22 seconds off my training time (exactly a lap behind Maren, the winner).

Next up: 400m hurdles. This is the event which I seriously underrated, when first looking at the tetradecathlon events. Only one lap! Hurdles at a lower height! Easy! Put both together, and you have a thing of absolute horror. Though I hate it dearly, I’ve competed this at each league meet, so just hoped to get through it in somewhere close to the usual time of 82something. I snuck just under, with 81.78.

Shot putt next- an event I’m seriously amateur at. Metres behind all but two of the other women, though I increased on my best by 19cm, still came back of the field with 6.60m. At least it was over quickly.


The final race of day 1 was 200m. I’ve only raced the distance twice: once indoors, and once as part of a heptathlon, both times staying just above 30 secs. I was sad that with it being towards the end of the season, with the wind against us and having done 5 events that day, I was disappointed I wouldn’t get a realistic chance to get under that 30 second barrier. But it was the last event of the day, and then I could relax- so I put everything I had left into it. The clock showed a glorious 29 as I passed.

I was excited to start day 2. I was tired from the first day- but not broken. Its 6 events had held 5 PBs, and I was excited to see if I could maintain a bit of freshness for every event. First of the day was 100m. Being used to 100m hurdles, it feels strange not to have the nervousness that goes with the question; will I make it over these in one piece? Instead, it’s just a joyous rush of adrenaline and competitiveness. With the wind very much on our backs, I raced towards the front, in a time I could hardly believe: 13.52.


I’m afraid it was downhill from there on, though. That was the last of my favourite events. Still to go, (not very) long jump; javelin (can I get it to land the right way up?), 400m (how do I run one of those?), 800m (eugh!), 200m hurdles (where do they even go?), discus (how do I hold it again?) and a nice little 3000m to finish.

Long jump- say no more.

At the start of the 400m, I was already struggling. Perhaps the tactic of each race being its own entity on day one had drained me. As we took our lanes, one of my competitors informed the officials that she would pull out. Why, I asked- she looked in one piece, and had been doing extremely well. “I’m quite tired…” she said. I thought it odd that she would say so, amongst a now very weary field. “…I’m pregnant.” I was, and remain, in absolute awe. The lap went without event, and though the two leaders of the field ran in 63 & 64 seconds, half of the group (including myself) were in the 70-71 seconds range, so I felt in good company.

Javelin was a disaster. The first two throws, although I was trying to get ‘safety throws’ still both landed with the wrong point down. My third and final throw, I pretty much jammed it into the ground, just a few metres away from the line.

Screen Shot 2016-09-04 at 23.24.00

This was the definite low-point of the competition. With 800m- perhaps the worst event of all- yet to run; I’d hoped to gain at least 200 points from every event, and javelin had earned just a quarter of that. Fortunately, Steph, Heathside’s bonafide (ex)heptathlete popped her cheery head in at this moment, and made me temporarily forget that I could hardly walk any more. I got round both laps slightly quicker than I had done in my test-run, and slightly slower than in the heptathlon, in 3m16.

At this point in the competition, I don’t think I was the only competitor taking the lift to the clubhouse’s first floor. My calves were wrecked, feeling on the cusp of injury. The prospect of again warming up was exasperating, but as the next event was 200m hurdles, there wasn’t really an option. With clouds building, I got back onto the track and did a few drills and strides.

Just before we were ready to get on our marks, Maren stated that the hurdles were on the men’s marks. With 200m hurdles hardly being a commonplace event, nobody else had a clue where they should be. With all the veterans and our junior in agreement, they went ahead as the hurdles placed where they were- supposedly on the men’s marks. In the minutes that the officials and Maren discussed what to do, the heavens opened. The 5 of us remaining in the senior competition, along with everyone who had been out on the field, ran to the pole-vault cover for shelter. The rain was absolutely battering the shelter, and soon we were all hopping around, tying our bags to the beams, to avoid the streams that came rushing from underneath. 10 minutes later with no let-up in the weather, Maren said, “Let’s go.”  And that was that.

For about 5 agonising minutes, we waited on the start line as the officials at the finish line caught wind of what was going on, and collated raincoats and umbrellas. I was worried about slipping, though of course we all had spikes on. However as the ‘race’ began, I realised that the problem was that I couldn’t see the hurdles, because I could barely open my eyes in the downpour. At the end of almost every race, I have lain down on the track, wheezing. Not this time. I probably ran faster to get back into the clubhouse than I had done in the race. Arron came to me with a very welcome towel: I was as wet as if I’d taken a full shower.


The welcome relief was that the next was in the field; discus. Not only a throw, but one which doesn’t have a wrong-way-up. After everyone had changed every piece of sodden clothing, our pregnant comrade joined us for this as her final event. With a very wobbly but valid throw, I slightly increased on my one previous competition result, the week before.

Exhausted, I sat down for what felt like 5 minutes, before somebody asked, “are you not doing the 3000m?” Somehow the time had ticked on to 5.55pm. I hurriedly changed shoes and headed over to the other side, to start the last 7.5 laps. It pained me to get there in a rush- as I was pretty sure I couldn’t maintain that speed!

Like the 1500m, I decided to try to stick with Janet, who again was going to try to run 2 minute laps, which would result in a 15 minute race. For the first lap and a half- I did. But then it was just too much. The realisation sank in that I just couldn’t keep running. For the remaining 5 laps, I walked for 200m, and then jogged 200m, getting lapped by almost everyone at least once. As the officials held the sign for ‘2 laps remaining’ for the leader, they leaned in and said, “4 for you!” As the crowd kindly cheered me on, I felt a bit sad knowing I would have to slow down to a power-walk just around the bend. It was a slightly demoralising end to the weekend’s competition, but nevertheless, with a sprint finish I managed to sneak under 18 minutes, (which if it were jogging on my way to work, I would be perfectly happy with).

On the line, I waited for the final finisher, and then all 11 tetradecathletes joined together for one last photo and congratulations. We’d all made it, without any major disasters.


Of the 6 competitors in the senior women category:
Maren (no 38) won with 8181 points. She is 3-times World Champion.
Janneke (no 35) was the silver medallist with 7697.
Sophia (no 37) took with bronze with 4700.
I came fourth, with 4063.

Given that I’d barely been on a track until 8 months ago- I am pretty pleased, though there’s definite room for improvement before the 2017 World Championships in Belgium next year.

Thanks so much to my long-suffering supporters; Arron went beyond the call of duty to ensure the right shoes were at the starting line, water was at the finish line, and that my legs were in working order; Mum & Ted for making the long trip down South; thanks to fellow Heathsiders – Tony & Adrian (both hugely successful in the men’s icosathlon), Steph & co for popping in at the right moments; and of course biggest thanks go to my brilliant coaches, Mark & Chris at London Heathside. I could have done diddly-squat without you.


Hackney Half

May held the most daunting challenge in the lead-up to August’s tetradecathlon. Prior to committing to learn 14 events, and in the rosy after-glow of my first 10k last November, I signed up to the Hackney Half Marathon.

On Hackney Half days for the past two years, I’ve whiled away a pleasant morning at Inaki’s house, whose kitchen table looks over the route about 500m from the finish-line. Last year I was particularly smug as my partner, Arron, sweated it over the 13.1 miles as Inaki and I shared a relaxed breakfast. Not this year, though.

I was absolutely under-prepared, having focussed on sprinting the last few months. Longer runs have not only got less regular, they had also got slower- my park run has grown by 2 minutes since the autumn. My only longer run was 11.5k (just over half the necessary distance),  a week before the race- and I must admit, there was a bit of walking involved.

My apprehension about the race was not helped by the weather forecast- it was set to be hot- 27° c. Once this transpired, Matt Pang suggested that I try running for 9 minutes, and walking for one, throughout the whole race. I agreed to give it a go.

On the day, I went in search of the 2h 45 pace-keeper, to find there was no such thing- just a pen of similarly underprepared people as myself, under the banner “over 2 h 30”. The heat was searing my Scottish skin even before the race got underway around 9.20am. The kind people of Hackney were out in force with music, hosepipes and good vibes. I would’t say it flew by, but the atmosphere was brilliant.  Using Matt’s technique meant that I never had a more daunting task than 9 minutes of running ahead, before I got a little rest.

As the morning drew on and the temperature rose, I passed more and more collapsed bodies with paramedics surrounding them. By mile 11, I felt close to joining them, as now in the Olympic Park, there were no grannies cheering from their balconies; no corner-shop owners offering bananas; and no hosepipes spraying out of front gardens. My 9:1 minute walk-run ratio slipped towards 5:5 for a couple of rounds.

As I turned the corner onto Inaki’s road, I made a final push for the finish with half a mile to go (mostly because I knew Arron  would be waiting to point a camera in my direction- and I didn’t want to be walking in that photo!). On the finish line, I almost cried. I’d been on the course for 2 hours 31 minutes.

April’s training & 1st SAL meet

It’s been a decent month for training, with my achilles injury clearing up, evenings getting lighter and the first Southern Athletics League meet of the year.

Coming out from injury, I took two weeks off, with the third week jogging to work a few times. This re-built my confidence, without the strain of sprinting or jumping. The last two weeks I’ve also squeezed in a few runs in the lead-up to the Hackney Half-marathon, which is in a weeks’ time. Arron had signed me up to this before I embarked on track & field training, so I can’t say I’ve committed to it as I would have initially liked to- but sprinting has taken priority and left my legs with little desire for 13 mile runs.

Much of this month’s track training has been hurdles-focussed. Until recently (when Stephanie Kleynhans shunned the Northern League in favour of it’s Southern counterpart- and I bumbled in behind her)  there have been no willing hurdlers to compete for Heathside, thus Chris is keen to get us up to speed on them.

At the SAL meet, having never run over the whole distance before, the 400m hurdles nearly killed me. At 250m, I was seriously flagging, and having clattered the penultimate hurdle, the last was almost leap too far…


I finished 3rd of the 4 A-string competitors in 84.5 secs. I was pleased just to have got around in one piece, but can’t say I felt I did brilliantly, nor that this will ever be a particularly strong event for me.

The 100m hurdles race was another matter. The A-strings raced separately with Steph the winner for Heathside. Having again not run over the full 10 hurdles in training, I held back a little, yet as I approached the finish line came closer and closer to the leader. I finished in second place with 20.7, a relatively slim 0.3 seconds behind the winner; and looking forward to the next race over this distance.

Since the meet, we have upped our track training sessions to twice a week, and Mark has added in weights to our Sunday session, before doing hill sprints. I’ve enjoyed it, except for overhead lifts where the weights I can put on the bar are depressingly light. I thought handstand training would have helped- but it just means I can hold it at the top, but getting it there is still a struggle.

Once the Hackney Half is out the way, I look forward to doing some more throwing practice, and trying high jump. Sadly the New River track has rugby and football players on the astroturf pitch in the centre of the track, so field events there are limited to long-jump. I have hopefully coerced 2 Heathsiders to sign up for the Cambridge Tetradecathlon- so perhaps soon it won’t just me me wanting to train daft events that I haven’t done before.


Saturday marks the start of this year’s Southern Athletics League, in which Heathside will compete with the 15 other clubs in Division 2 in a meet each month between now and August.

In each event, each club has 2 scoring athletes; A-string and B-string, as well as those who will be non-scoring. I’ve been told that athletes are often trying things for (almost) the first time in the SAL, and look forward to doing exactly that.

This weekend I will be the B-string for 100m H alongside Steff , who is a bona-fide heptathlete; hilariously I will be A-string for 400m hurdles, which I still have not done; and non-scoring for javelin, and anything else that might take my fancy during the coach-ride to Hemel Hemstead on Saturday morning.

This evening I had a brief hurdles session with Chris- here’s my last, slightly tired run, as filmed and commentated by Claudia. I loved it.

First competition: Middlesex Indoors

The Middlesex Indoor Championships gave me an opportunity to get some PBs in a smattering of events. Having been given an entry form by my coach, Chris, the day before he left on a 3-week holiday, I chose a random assortment of categories, without giving much thought to how I was going to train these over the coming weeks.

My choices were 60m, 60m hurdles, 200m and long-jump.

60m & 200m I felt reasonably confident that I could at least get to the end of a race. However, 10 days before the competition I realised I had no idea how to use starting blocks. Professor Google showed me the way, before doing a quick practical session on our building-site track last Sunday.

I fully expected my first 4 long-jumps to be during the competition. However, last Wednesday was lucky enough to train with coach, Mark Lawrence, at Lee Valley Athletics Centre, where the Indoor Championships were to be held. He gave me a whistle-stop tour of how to long jump. Some of it was much like the indoor preps from back in January- taking off, lifting the knee and driving with the arms; but as soon as I began to take a run up, all of that went to pot. Stuttering runs, no drive, and often with a forward roll at the end of a meagre jump.


Having happily cleared the hurdles at their lower height during my first track session at Heathside (much to Chris’ surprise!), I had felt confident about moving onto the higher ones for the shorter sprint. But with Chris being away and Finsbury Park’s track being dug up, I approached the competition weekend not knowing if I could clear them over the 60m distance, having not been over a single hurdle this month.

During the last weeks, I began to have problems with my achilles tendon, which started from getting over-excited about catching up with someone during a sprint session- quite a rarity.

The first day of the competition, I arrived early- after panics about having no safety pins for my number, and noticing my spikes were blunt and several were missing. Nobody from Heathside was there, and I was thankful for having been there earlier in the week. There were some hurdles and starting blocks in the warm-up area, but with it so crowded with participants of all genders and age-groups, everybody needed to set them at differing heights and distances. Eventually I braved an empty lane and set 3 hurdles to (hopefully) the correct placements.

I went to the call area where I was surprised to be barked at; “673, CAN YOU SIT DOWN!” My four competitors sat beside me, discussing how they hadn’t competed this event for a while. I kept shtum. I had not done this event once, not even in training.

We were told to go to our starting blocks, where we could test them and go over two hurdles, once before the race. We were then asked to stand in front of our blocks. I misunderstood where ‘in front’ was, giving away my amateurism if my body shape had not already done so.

Marks. Set. BANG!

Before I could think about technique, it was over. The others were 2 seconds ahead of me, but I cleared all 5 hurdles. From the adrenaline, I perhaps clearer them by too much, wasting time; but I was delighted to reach the finish line in one piece, having not clattered the metal. 11.28 secs.

I had little time to rest before my next event- 200m.

For this, I had a better idea of what time to expect- at sprint training, I usually keep pace with Mary, who last week got a PB of 31.2 secs. The indoor track’s steep curves supposedly favour a shorter athlete- a phrase I’ve not heard much in my brief time in the sport. I was placed in lane 5, with nobody in the outside lane.

I felt great through the first bend, but as I approached the second at just over 100m, I began to tire and the other women eased ahead of me.  Noelle from Heathside was still within my sights as I finished in last place, in 30.7. Though there were 4 seconds between myself and the winner, I was pleased with my time.

On Saturday evening, my body quickly descended into a crumpled heap. My achilles ached and I could barely walk. As Arron accompanied me to the car on Sunday morning, he noted- “you’re limping! You can’t do that- they won’t let you race!”

Things didn’t feel too happy in my legs as I creaked through warm-up drills and strides. Down by the long-jump pit, things weren’t any better. I noted I was about to compete in long jump, yet could barely jump on the spot.

I grinned and bared it through the four jumps, again with any and all hastily learned technique going out the window. I felt sure that I could jump at least 4m. Not today.

2.56m. 2.73m. 3.29m. 3.03m.

I came third of the four competitors, but felt frustrated and in pain. I pulled out of the 60m sprint, which was due to start 30 mins later.

Instead, I watched from the sidelines with two of my favourite people as my teammate Claudia zoomed through to second place in that race, with her own PB. Her joy at her time was far beyond that of any winner I’d seen over the competition, and made a very sweet ending to a slightly painful weekend.


Huge thanks to my coaches, Chris & Mark; everyone at London Heathside; and my wonderful supporters, Arron & Emily.


Bounding session 1

Warm up.

Hop, skip, jump.
Hop, skip, jump.
Hop, hop, skip, jump.
Hop, hop, skip, jump.
Hop, hop, skip, skip, jump.
Hop, hop, skip, skip, jump.
Hop, hop, skip, skip, jump, jump.
Hop, hop, skip, skip, jump, jump.

Circuits. No.

Heathside Athletics Club

Today was my first day at Heathside Athletics Club, and what a day to choose.

As I approached the track with my hot-water bottle tucked into my pants, there was a good inch of untouched snow covering the track. By the time I’d got in and chatted to a coach, the kids had begun work on an enormous snowman, which also served to help clear the track.

Meanwhile, I took the opportunity of their absence to get a bit of 1:1 training inside, from hurdles coach, Chris Dissanyake. At first walking over, then hurdling over foam triangles, I found it fun to learn the technique of hurdling, without being too physically exerted. I feel this may be short lived.

When the rest of the seniors arrived, an hour or so later, we did some ‘bounding practice’- standing long jumps, and then two-footed jumps over the foam hurdles- meanwhile the male athletes were nimbly hopping over what I was struggled to clear with both feet.

Finally, whilst somehow avoiding the hill sprints which the rest of the group went off to do, I worked with long-jump coach, Mark Lawrence; mainly working on the technique of the last few steps before take-off. He found that if nothing else, I am extremely accustomed to landing on my arse on a crash mat.

“So you’ve never done… you don’t have a recorded distance for your jump?”