At that time I was training hard under Ampie's tutelage with the objective of improving my speed in order to qualify for the Beijing Olympics in 2008. All the indicators were that this was an entirely achievable goal, as I was in perfect physical condition and running very well. But then, as my qualifying times continued to improve, I was surprised to notice that they brought with them a far greater critical interest in my performance. People within the athletics world started to imply that my 'high tech' legs were somehow giving me an unfair advantage and needed to be handled with suspicion and more circumspection. I was unprepared for this, as my carbon fibre prostheses have been on the market for over ten years now and are commonly used by amputee athletes. Suddenly my struggle to qualify for the Olympics had been transformed into something far more fundamental – it became a contest about my very right to run and participate in the Olympics.
As I have mentioned, I had been invited to compete at the Helsinki Grand Prix in 2005 but had been unable to attend. At that point my qualifying times simply were not good enough to compete at such a high level. But by 2007 my qualifying times had improved to the extent that I had come second in the 400 metres at the South African National Championships, and I now felt the time was right to compete internationally. Coincidence would have it that this was also the moment that the International Association of Athletics Federations (IAAF) adopted a rule which would make my participation impossible.
The IAAF met in March 2007 in Mombasa, Kenya, and ruled to modify what is known as Rule 144-2 (I can now recite it off by heart). Basically it prohibits the use during a race of 'any technical devices designed to improve performance'. It expressly prohibits the use of 'any technical device that guarantees to the athlete making use of this technology an advantage over those athletes not beneficiaries of this technology'.
Many knowledgeable sports commentators speculated that possibly the rule had been brought into existence to prevent me from competing in able-bodied international athletics competitions, not only because of its wording and implications but because of the expedited manner in which the decision was passed. For example, Track Fast, who are behind various British sporting events, and who had invited me to compete in Glasgow, immediately contacted me to explain that on the basis of this IAAF decision they felt obliged to cancel my invitation. Interestingly, though, I had not received any official notification from the IAAF and ostensibly the ruling had nothing to do with me.
In June of that year the IAAF issued a press release which stated that article 144-2 was not to be interpreted as concerning my sporting participation, at least not until sufficient testing could prove that my prostheses were in fact a 'technical advantage' over my fellow competing athletes. Nick Davies, the IAAF press secretary, telephoned Peet and clearly stated that as things stood there was no interdiction to my participation and I was free to compete. There is no doubt that all the polemic, along with the confusion that reigned, made the situation difficult for me. I did my best to keep my head down and focus on my training, and I was absolutely overjoyed when Peet contacted me to tell me that I was registered to compete in an important race in Rome.
Peet had been in contact with Gigi D'Onofrio (a man for whom I have great respect) who is the organiser of the Golden Gala event in Rome and who was quite happy to accept any criticism or negative press interest that my participation was likely to attract. It was hugely important for us to have established such a good relationship with this intelligent and open-minded man, who was happy to take responsibility for his choices. He gave me the opportunity to prove myself on the world stage.
And so it was, after two years' preparation, that in July 2007 I set off for Rome. I was so excited by my good fortune and the marvellous opportunity that lay before me.
The date 13 July 2007 will be engraved in my memory for ever; it was the day of the 400-metre race. The weather was magnificent, and we took the bus to the stadium to warm up and prepare for the race. The setting was striking: the stadium is a spectacular edifice surrounded by ancient statues of Roman athletes. The public support was strong and the atmosphere in the stadium electric. That evening the race was taking place at the Olympic Stadium. As the build-up to the race picked up momentum I was particularly nervous. I was used to competing in South Africa against athletes who were all familiar to me and from whom I more or less knew what to expect. This, on the other hand, was an entirely new and intimidating challenge. I had to force myself to focus on giving my best and making the most of the occasion.
I started the race quite slowly but, as is my style, picked up speed and by the last hundred metres I had moved from seventh position to finish second in the race. I was exhausted but jubilant. I had come second with a time of 46.90, but more importantly it was the first time ever that a differently abled athlete had competed alongside able-bodied athletes at international level.
Chapter 9
Swimming against
the Tide
WITH THE GOLDEN GALA behind me, I left for England the next day where I had been invited to compete in the Norwich Union British Grand Prix in Sheffield, which is an equally prestigious competition.
This is more or less where the similarities stop. The atmosphere in England was completely different. The press seemed to be leading the controversy that surrounded my participation by giving exaggerated column space both to unsupported insinuations as well as a more technical debate about the supposed advantage represented by my prostheses. They were soliciting public participation by launching opinion polls on my case. It was very difficult for me and left me feeling insecure.
The sports reporters chose the pre-race press conference to bombard me with questions regarding the IAAF ruling. I did my best to keep my calm and reiterate a point that I considered of paramount importance, namely that had I believed that my Cheetahs provided any sort of technical advantage over the other athletes I would have retired from the competition myself. I valued the principles of fair competition and good sportsmanship above all others. Of course, my thoughts (and my answers to their questions for that matter) held little sway with the press corps who continued hammering on.
Admittedly my morale was low, but the final straw came when I awoke on the morning of 15 July, which was the day of the 400-metre race. It was raining heavily and of course no athlete likes to compete in those circumstances, but for me it is particularly disastrous, as my Cheetahs don't perform exceptionally well on a wet track.
As race time neared the weather showed no sign of improving and so I found myself facing a difficult decision. Was it preferable to pull out of the race and miss the opportunity to compete (an opportunity that, considering the prevailing furore over my invitation to the event, now seemed even more valuable) or race, however nasty the climatic conditions, and risk a disappointing performance that would be both embarrassing in the press and perhaps prejudicial to my goal of qualifying for the Olympics. I had never before backed down in the face of a challenge, but on this occasion for the first time I seriously contemplated it.
I was incredibly stressed and struggled to concentrate during the warm-up. The downpour continued unabated and the rubber track was very slippery; what was more, I was running alongside the invincible Jeremy Warner who at that time was the fastest man in the world over 400 metres. The only light on the horizon was the warm welcome given to me by the Sheffield home crowd as my name was announced over the loudspeakers.
The race began and within the first 100 metres I could feel I was losing pace. Try as I might, and I gave the race my all, I did not manage to pick up any speed, and I crossed the finish line last. Then to add insult to injury I was disqualified from the race for having left my lane. As I said, no athlete likes to run in the rain – it is not pleasant, and you can barely see where you are going with the rain in your eyes. But with my prostheses I have an additional problem, which stems from the fact that my knee joint is further away from the ground. The higher your knee joint the more interference there is with the way in which you
perceive the point at which your foot touches the ground. To have a good push-off, good balance and control it is imperative you train in the same climatic conditions so that you become used to the experience.
When I look back, and taking the climatic conditions into account, I did not run a bad race that day. My time (47.65) was closer to my personal best comparatively speaking than that of any of the other competitors, and I was particularly disadvantaged by the rain. So even though I came last and the result was hardly flattering for me, I was competing against the best and the fastest in the world. I am proud of my performance in Sheffield and consider it a personal victory, because I compete first and foremost against myself but also because competing alone that evening was a mighty challenge.
Again, at the press conference after the race the journalists took me to task about my performance. The general thrust of their questioning amounted to why it was that I insisted on being able to compete against able-bodied athletes. Why should I be permitted to compete in able-bodied athletics when the Paralympics are designed precisely for people like me? Again and again I explained that I had no objection to competing in the Paralympics, but saw no reason why, if my talent and ability permitted me to run within the qualifying times which were prerequisites for the various able-bodied sporting events, I should not be permitted to do both.
The upside of the controversy was that I received support from the majority of athletes and many of the organisers behind the top events in the international sporting calendar, and this has been immensely valuable to me. I think they appreciate that the qualifying times that I have achieved demand significant sacrifice, effort and training – equal to the sacrifice, effort and training undertaken by able-bodied athletes – and that for this reason I am not a 'disabled athlete' but just an athlete.
The exemplary athlete and holder of the world record (19.72) in the 200 metres discipline for over twenty years, Pietro Mannea, has been very vocal in his support of me. He has publicly stated that in his professional opinion (and with his experience on the track) the controversy surrounding my blades is nothing but absurd, since it is undeniable that running without the perception of one's feet on the track – whether the track is dry or wet – will have a significant technical and psychological impact with consequent knock-on effects. What is more, athletes of his stature train for many hours every day in the run-up to important races, whereas I am obliged to curtail the time I spend training as the prolonged and intense chafing of my stumps against my prostheses often leads to the development of sores and injuries. In Pietro's words, if one takes these two aspects of my physical and mental preparation into account, along with the intense training and sacrifice necessary for me to achieve this level of competitive performance, one can only commend me as an example of pure athletics. I have often wished the IAAF saw in my participation the same paradigm.
There are of course some athletes who see things differently. Marlon Shirley, the world-famous Paralympian athlete and 100-metre champion (he ran the 100 metres in 11.08), commented a couple of years ago that as he is a single amputee (officially classified as T44) he does not believe it fair that he should have to compete against a bilateral amputee (T43) like myself. He took issue with the fact that during the Athens Paralympics I competed against the T44 athletes but, as I have stated, I made this choice precisely because there were no T43 athletes with qualifying times anywhere close to mine.
With the Sheffield race behind me, I returned to South Africa, feeling very dispirited. The atmosphere in England, fuelled by all the negativity and controversy in the British press (aided and abetted by the British downpour), had thrown a pall over my achievement and I had come seriously to doubt that I would receive a second chance as the IAAF seemed absolutely set on ruling against my prostheses. Even the South African media, who had always been among my staunchest supporters, had begun to doubt my actual athletic talent.
The sporting season was over but I knew that the coming autumn would bring with it the greatest of all challenges. The IAAF had decided to take the necessary steps to put the controversy to bed; they had scheduled tests for November 2007 to prove definitively whether or not my prostheses constituted a technical advantage over other athletes. The tests were to be held under the aegis of the Cologne Sports University and to be supervised by the renowned Professor of Biomechanics, Doctor Paul Brüggemann, in conjunction with Mr Elio Locatelli, who is responsible with the IAAF for all technical issues.
In actual fact the IAAF investigation was already under way: the IAAF had decided to make the most of my participation at the Golden Gala in Rome to install high-resolution cameras right along the length of the track, so as to provide themselves with the technical footage necessary to analyse whether or not my prostheses could in fact be considered a technical advantage over my competitors. I had been advised that there would be additional cameras concentrating on the race but I had not been informed that the purpose of these cameras was in fact to document each moment of my race and in turn measure my stride. Only much later did it become public knowledge that Mr Locatelli considered my Cheetahs responsible for artificially allowing me a wider step.
After studying the recording of the race in detail the technicians at the University of Rome came to the conclusion that my stride was not longer than that of other athletes. They did note that in comparison to other athletes my performance followed a different phase development. Unlike most able-bodied athletes, who reach the apex of their performance within the first 70 metres, I start the race slowly but then pick up speed, peaking between the 200- and 300-metre marks. This conclusion then spurred Mr Locatelli on to request that I be subject to further testing.
The tests were scheduled to take place in Germany on 12 and 13 November 2007 and were structured in such a way that my performance would be analysed and measured alongside five other able-bodied athletes who had run the 400 metres with qualifying times similar to my own.
I felt confident that these tests would definitively prove my position and show once and for all that my prostheses did not in any way afford me a technical advantage over other athletes. I hoped that by persuading my critics I would also be able to clear my way to realise my dream and participate in the Olympics.
The tests themselves were conducted in a circus-like atmosphere. I was at the centre of a throng made up of doctors, scientists, technicians and then the cameramen who were filming the procedure for the IAAF; the pressure on me was intense. My only support was Peet, my manager, who did his best to lift my morale, but it was a challenging experience for both of us, further complicated by the knee injury I was nursing at the time.
This was the first time ever that the IAAF (or anyone else for that matter) had dedicated time and resources to researching the question of prosthetics. The use of prosthetics was completely unregulated, particularly when compared to the reams of regulations that apply to the type and design of the running shoes one can use while racing. The reason for this was because until I was admitted to compete in the top-tier competitive athletic events, prostheses were only used in Paralympic events. In actual fact there is very little to differentiate between the prostheses on the market today (basically they are designed according to the weight of the person who will wear them). This is partly because there are so few companies that produce prosthetic limbs (namely the German companies Isatec and Otto Bock and the Icelandic firm Ossur, which has been supplying me since 2004). I feel strong in the knowledge that this is not simply a debate about my athletics and my dream to compete in the Olympics, but rather that it is about discrimination – for me any athlete who shows sufficient talent and dedication should be allowed to take his or her place and compete against the best in the world.
Once the tests were over I left Germany feeling relaxed and optimistic. Unfortunately it did not last for long. In December 2007 the IAAF sent me their official report, which stated that over a distance of 400 metres my prosthetic limbs did indeed constitute an unfair advantage over other athletes.
This amounted to a banning order, which would make it impossible for me to compete among able-bodied athletes internationally. Professor Brüggemann concluded his argument by explaining that, in his opinion, carbon fibre prostheses constitute a 'mechanical advantage' when one analyses the energy restored to the athlete by the blade (the bottom of the prostheses). The scientists had compared the movement in my prostheses with what happens to the human ankle when maximum sprinting speed is attained and had concluded that at that moment I was benefiting from an unfair advantage over the other athletes.
In synthesis Professor Brüggemann's report states the following:
I am able to run at the same speed as able-bodied athletes while expending 25 per cent less energy because once I attain the speed in question, running on prostheses requires less energy outlay than running on normal limbs.
The mechanics of racing while running on prostheses is totally different from that seen among able-bodied athletes, as is the energy restored from the track to the athlete. The energy restored to the prosthetic limb is over three times higher because it has a flexibility quota of over 90 per cent, unlike that of a human foot that is unlikely to exceed 60 per cent.
A prosthetic limb loses about 9.3 per cent of the energy unlike the human ankle that loses more than 41.4 per cent and so in other words the mechanic advantage given by the prosthetic limb can be quantified as more than 30 per cent.
Blade Runner Page 9