The Olympic Village also hosted two entertainment zones, each equipped with huge TV screens and PlayStation points with all the Olympic sports available. By the end of the week athletes had blisters on their hands from their devotion to PlayStation and the intense competitiveness with which they had been playing the games. It was a serious business. There were electronic kiosks dispensing a seemingly endless supply of ice creams and cool drinks. Athletes had an electronic card system that allowed them to order and consume whatever they wanted for free. It was amazing.
Once the Games were over I toured the Greek islands – Mykonos, Paros, to name only two; there were so many I can barely recall them all. It was a magical experience for me as I slept on the beaches by night and by day toured my chosen island by Vespa.
But it wasn't just the beauty of the location or the incredible facilities of the Olympic Village that made this a life-changing experience for me. It opened my eyes to a world that I had previously been disdainful of. I began to understand that by participating solely in able-bodied sport, I was depriving myself; I had never before enjoyed similar levels of sporting camaraderie and sportsmanship. Disabled sport is equally competitive – after all, it is a competition between serious, dedicated athletes – but a unique atmosphere of profound mutual respect prevails. I came to regret having come to disabled sport so late, and in particular to races between amputee athletes. At the highest level the difference between the qualifying times and the winning times and between each of the athletes is so slim that each competitor has to push him- or herself to the limit. We are driven by the desire for victory and the pursuit of excellence. But once the race is over we can all go out for dinner together and enjoy the camaraderie, understanding and friendship.
While in Athens I had the good fortune to meet an extraordinary athlete who has changed my approach to my accomplishments for ever. A couple of days before a race, I decided to attend a swimming event – I think it was the 200 metres butterfly – when I noticed one swimmer, whose time was double that of the other athletes. He was competing although he was without one arm and both legs. He seemed to be completely oblivious to the other swimmers. After the race I went to speak to him because I wanted to tell him that I had found his performance remarkable. I was wearing shorts, so my prostheses were visible. We chatted a bit and he asked what my speciality was. I replied that I was a sprinter and that it was the first time I had participated in such an important disabled event. He told me that he could see nothing 'disabled' in his performance. It made no difference to him as he was not competing against the other athletes – he was competing against himself and his goal was to improve his time. He struck a profound chord with me: his perspective exactly mirrored my own, and I too share this approach to sporting excellence.
When people ask me why I want to compete in the Olympics when I cannot be sure of qualifying for the semi-finals or the finals I try to explain that they are missing the point. It is a point which applies equally to the Paralympics. The prime objective is not to compete against other athletes. Of course it is fantastic to win, but however sweet the moment of victory may be, it is far preferable to come second or third but better your own personal best time than come first with a time that is slower than your personal best. What I learnt while participating in Athens is that what is really important is not the victory over your adversaries but the victory over your own limitations. This, in my opinion, is the essence of true sporting endeavour and it is the absence of this outlook that lies at the heart of problems such as the doping scandals that have plagued professional sport.
People often ask me why I want to participate in the Olympic Games and whether it is because I consider the Paralympics second-best. I believe the two games are not mutually exclusive. It is not because I am able to compete in the Olympics that I will not compete in the Paralympics. To me the Olympics are just another sporting avenue, and like most other athletes I am eager to explore every possibility and to be present and competitive in all the top sporting arenas. I do not consider the Paralympics to be inferior, merely different, and it remains incontestable that the Olympics are the ultimate sporting event.
I am not a Paralympic athlete, nor am I an Olympic athlete. I am simply an athlete and a sprinter.
Chapter 7
One of a Kind?
Normal versus
Special
UNBEKNOWNST TO ME, my victory and my status as gold medallist at the Athens Paralympics 2004 had changed my life for ever. I became a sporting celebrity overnight and the media interest and the angle they chose elevated me to a superhero for disabled people worldwide.
My return to South Africa was particularly stressful for me. I had not actually grasped the significance of having my name in all the newspapers; suddenly journalists were queuing up to interview me. Initially I was euphoric, but by November I was burnt out by the combination of intensive training and racing and the press attention. I decided to take a holiday and headed to the coast with my family for a month and a half.
The changes in my life had been drastic and sudden but I gradually got used to a new equilibrium in my life. When I first shot to fame I was both young and naive, and found myself taking interviews with journalists very personally and getting particularly upset when the results were less than flattering or my words were taken out of context. With time I have come to understand that each of us has a job and a role to fulfil and that the journalists cannot only write from one perspective. Now, through the interviews I give, my principal aim is to contribute towards changing people's attitudes and perception of Paralympic sport.
While in London in 2007 for a press conference, I took issue with what is, in my opinion, the double standards applied by much of the press while reporting on Paralympic sports. In able-bodied sporting events, when athletes under-perform – even if they win – they are called to account by the press. Their slower time is scrutinised, and journalists conjecture on their lack of general fitness, wondering whether this is due to inadequate training, a recent injury or some other cause. In Paralympics this rarely happens. However mediocre the performance, or poor the race time, the press comment only on how wonderful the sportsmanship was or what remarkable endurance or competitive spirit was displayed by the athletes. I have asked myself on countless occasions why it is that the press feel that Paralympic athletes cannot be treated like the serious athletes they are and called to account for the level of their performance, simply because they are disabled? If your time is slower than your previous times – even in victory – or your performance is less impressive, being called to account will serve to motivate you as an athlete and encourage you to better your performance on each fresh occasion. To say that you won the race but that you did not realise your full potential is hardly an insult – it should be considered encouraging.
Although I have not been part of the Paralympic sporting world for long, I feel that people are too ready to confine any comment to the symbolic side of Paralympic competition. In the main, we hear only about the inspirational stories of people who have overcome obstacles and hardship to compete. I am not for one minute suggesting that it is not important to spread the word of these important accomplishments, but in no way should this negate applying normal standards of excellence and athletic performance to the competing athletes. Paralympic athletes need to be subject to the same exacting standards and constructive criticism as their able-bodied counterparts. I think this is particularly true because athletics is an individual sport and you are competing for yourself and against yourself. Your performance is entirely your responsibility, unlike the team sports where the one can always dissipate responsibility throughout the team.
This is exactly what I miss about team sports and particularly rugby. It is a wonderfully unifying and rewarding sensation to win a match as a team. The camaraderie and the sense of collective endeavour and achievement are special. I no longer play rugby: I can't afford to risk an injury. I now play touch rugby with a group of friends, which in
volves far less physical contact and no hard tackles and is a more relaxed and amateur game.
Water polo is another sport I have always enjoyed, and it has the added advantage of being something I can do without prostheses, but the truth of it is that I perform better in short spurts – sprinting and anaerobic sports. My issue with water polo, and it is the same with swimming, cycling and marathon running, is that it is an endurance sport and constitutionally I am better designed for speed rather than endurance. I believe this is a question of muscle fibre and physical predisposition. Even when I was at the height of my physical fitness and training specifically for these sports, when I played water polo I always arrived at the last of the four sessions which comprised the match totally exhausted. My performance, whether it was in water polo or rugby, was about my explosive energy, energy which by definition was not consistent for the full length of the match.
Once a sportsman turns professional he or she is forced into making choices in order to excel at his or her chosen sport. From my perspective today, as an athlete and a sprinter, it would be counterproductive for me to cycle 20 kilometres. I am sure I am fit enough and one could argue that it would only further my general wellbeing and all-round sporting fitness, but as I do not want to encourage my body's development of slow-twitch muscle fibre I make sure that it does not have the opportunity. Slow-twitch muscle fibre is of course significant, because in athletics reaction times are everything. My commitment and focus on my career as a sprinting athlete mean that, however much I enjoy water polo and rugby (the latter a sport that keeps you running pretty much for the full eighty minutes of every match), I no longer partake in anything that is detrimental to my preparation and chances of success. Even when I work out at the gym, two minutes is the maximum length of any one exercise, and even that is an exception. Underground Secrets to Faster Running by Barry Ross, who was a coach for more than thirty years, has revolutionised my approach to my physical fitness and training. He was one of the first to understand that it is vital that one's training reflect the nature of the sport in question – in other words, training sessions for sprinters need to be short and focused. Another example is the difference between pull-ups and push-ups. As in athletics you need to propel yourself away from the ground it is recommended that I train using push-ups, as that way I am pushing my body away from the ground, whereas pull-ups would require me to pull my weight towards something. Every detail of your training package must be designed around the result required. I concentrate on short explosive movements: for example, I will jump from a platform and as soon as I touch down immediately spring forward towards another, thus training my body to push away with ease and speed.
When I train I use my ordinary everyday prostheses, not my running blades, and early every morning I work out in the gym under the instruction of Sebastian Rothman, a celebrated former boxer and exceptional personal trainer.
Nutrition is another aspect of my life that has been transformed since I committed to my career as a professional sprinter. I no longer consume as many carbohydrates as I used to, since I have no need to build and maintain important energy reserves. In order to sprint effectively I need energy to burn quickly, and so it is logical that I need to eat large quantities of protein like chicken or fish. As a rugby man my favourite treat was to eat five slices of bread thickly coated in peanut butter, and I could get away with it as I was burning the calories during the match; sprinting, however, does not consume as much, and in any case one's body uses only the energy stored in one's muscles, so I have had to give up that particular pleasure.
Originally I had thought I could simply swap rugby for athletics and carry on as before, but it soon became clear that the choice was more complex. I studied the different types of muscle fibres and spoke to a number of people qualified in the field of sports science; it was quickly apparent that to be a successful sprinter I would have to give up rugby altogether, and I must confess that within three weeks of giving up rugby my qualifying times improved significantly. The same can be said of my nutrition. Although giving up carbohydrates meant that I was more tired by the end of a training session, I was and am far stronger and my muscles repair far more quickly. Obviously this knowledge has deepened as my experience in athletics has grown, and I have gradually adapted myself to the discipline.
To be a professional athlete is as much a lifestyle choice as it is a career choice and it requires sacrifices in every aspect of one's life. In what may seem a trivial example, it is not possible to be a professional athlete on only five or six hours' sleep a night. Training hard is not enough: one needs a minimum of eight or nine hours' rest, since it is imperative to train both body and mind. My life has changed enormously over the last four years. For example, on Saturday evenings when I could in theory go out as late as I want as I do not train on Sundays, I generally end up watching a DVD at home. By ten o'clock I can hardly keep my eyes open and even when I go to the cinema I often end up falling asleep in the middle of the film – embarrassing but true. Ten years from now I am sure my life will be different, but right now I have to be totally dedicated to what I am doing in order to do it properly and succeed.
Most of my friends in my peer group are university students and are living and enjoying a lifestyle that is diametrically opposed to mine. They are out late at night socialising, drinking and going to parties. I believe that there is a time in life for everything, but for the last four years I have been engaged in other activities and my perception of life and of what is important has changed a great deal – inevitably, a gap has opened between us. Some people tell me that I am no longer the same person; to some extent they are right; I have seen and been exposed to many new things and my eyes have been opened to other life choices. It is a situation with which I feel very comfortable.
The anti-landmine project that I am now involved in is a good example of something that is now close to my heart and that has completely shifted my perspective on the world. I was as naive and as self-absorbed as the next man, but the opportunity to travel and actually witness what was going on changed this. I can no longer ignore that a mere 600 kilometres away from my home town, in Mozambique, so many people have lost and are continuing to lose limbs to landmines. In addition, many live in terrible poverty without basic comforts like a roof and running water. South Africa too has high levels of poverty and hardship (there is a township not 50 kilometres from my front door where life is very difficult indeed). I know that if I had not been blessed with fame and success I would never have become aware of these people's struggles. Today, because of my profile and celebrity, people ask for my help, they invite my involvement and show me where my participation will bring added value to the people and cause in question. As I have matured I have come to realise and value my own good fortune in life and, at the same time understand the humanity of others.
Today, my main goal in life, alongside my sporting goals, is to help others. I would like to build my own nongovernmental organisation to assist African amputees, both financially and otherwise, in obtaining prostheses. I would like to find a way to manufacture prostheses at a reduced cost. I know from my research along with my own personal experience that the cost involved in manufacturing the prostheses is not enormous in itself, but of course the manufacturers have to maintain a profit margin. If we were able to manufacture the prostheses directly, the savings involved would permit people – for the same outlay – to buy three pairs instead of two pairs at today's prices. I discussed my idea with one of the scientists who oversaw my tests during the appeal process before the Arbitration Tribunal in Lausanne – about which more later – and he explained to me that the technology necessary to produce low-cost, lightweight but resistant and therefore low-maintenance prostheses exists already. In an African context this is very important: we do not have the infrastructure necessary to provide long-term maintenance easily and affordably to all who need it, and furthermore, with the enormous distances involved a doctor will often fit prosthetic limbs but have n
o opportunity for follow-up clinics with the patients.
Today it is easy for me to use my name to help other people, and for precisely this reason I feel it is my responsibility to do as much as I can to make a difference. I think that many celebrities consider this a burden that they can address simply by donating money to charities. I would never wish to suggest that financial donations were not vital, but I feel strongly that it is important to be personally involved and to lend your time and support to initiatives you really believe in. There is so much need both here in South Africa and abroad.
On a personal level, I have chosen to get actively involved in helping people in Mozambique. Mozambique was an obvious choice for me as a Southern African, as indeed was the subject of landmines given that I am an amputee. I found myself inspired, in a way that is comparable to my encounter with the incredible swimmer I met at the Athens Paralympics, by the manner in which people make do and succeed with what they have. Many of the Mozambicans I met had very little in the way of material comforts or money and had undergone trauma and hardship, yet instead of complaining about their lot they were getting on with life, doing their best and living happily. Their love of life and positive approach was contagious: it reminds me to value my life and to remember how lucky I have been. I find it immensely rewarding to help these people because they delight in what life is giving them. I struggle far more when people call me in desperation asking me to help one of their loved ones who has lost a limb, perhaps in an accident, but who is mired in anger and depression and refusing to get out of bed and learn to walk with prostheses. It is tough for everyone involved, but it is almost impossible to help someone who does not want to be helped. Often I find myself telling these people stories of those I have met in Mozambique, in the hope that I can inspire them and help them understand their good fortune even when it has been tainted by the experience of an accident and an amputation. A seventy-year-old Mozambican woman particularly moved me. When we gave her a pair of prostheses she had not walked in thirty years. That same day she learnt to walk again and by the end of it was moving around without the help of others. Sometimes perspective is all that is required for a person to understand that despite undergoing an amputation they are nonetheless alive and well and able to make the most of the incredible advancements that medical science and technology have to offer. Unlike many people who find themselves in similar circumstances but do not have enough money to put food on the table, let alone buy a pair of prostheses, regaining something approaching their accustomed quality of life will be easy for them. Everything, of course, depends on your attitude to life. You have a choice: take what has happened to you as a slight from destiny and the theft of your natural right to have two legs, or simply embrace life and relish the new opportunities and knowledge that will come with the change.
Blade Runner Page 7
