Weirwolf by David Weir Read Free Book Online Page B

really learned was how to play pool in the college bar. Tourism wasn’t for me. I was summoned to see the head of the college.
    â€˜What are you playing at?’ he asked me. ‘Why don’t you get your head down and work for a qualification? Don’t you want to make something of yourself?’
    But my heart wasn’t in it. So I told him I didn’t want to do this any more. There and then, I quit. As I wheeled myself out of his office I remember feeling liberated but scared. I had a knot in my stomach and my mouth was dry. I knew I had made the right decision but I had no idea what I was going to do next.
    Music has always been a big part of my life. I love house music and fancy myself as a bit of a DJ. So when the chance came up to study music at another local college inCarshalton, I thought it might be the answer. Unlike tourism, this felt more up my street. But that didn’t work either. I wasn’t made to be in classrooms and, although I knew I was bright enough to learn, my confidence and self-esteem were rock bottom. I would panic whenever it was my turn to speak in a class, the nerves made me sick. I was embarrassed at my inability to read and spell properly. So once again I quit education, this time for good. I felt completely betrayed, angry and lost. Sport would have to be my escape.

CHAPTER 4
FOOL’S GOLD
    T he Barcelona Paralympics was a turning point in my life. Those golden images of my new heroes Heinz Frei and Tanni Grey-Thompson winning in front of huge, excited crowds convinced me that this was my future. Representing my country at a Paralympics now became my mission, the 1996 Games in Atlanta my dream.
    For the three years after that I worked so hard to become a better athlete, developing my technique, building my strength and fitness and learning the tactical skills that you need to win races. In those days I was a pure sprinter. I was still too young to have worked out what I wanted to specialise in, although even back then I preferred the middle-distance events – the 800m and 1,500m.
    The truth is, sprinting is really boring. The training is repetitive and I just don’t enjoy it. Tactically, the middle-distance races are far more challenging, while in the 100m, if you don’t get the start right then the race is over. And if you suffer from nerves, like me, then getting off to a goodstart is extremely difficult. I was always so worried about false starting that I couldn’t relax. In training, I could break the world record, no problem. But when it came to race day, I would freeze. Consistency was my big problem. Some days I could nail the start and move through all the various phases of the race without a single mistake. Other times it would go pear shaped from the off. If I can get myself in contention with 30 or 40 metres to go then I know I have the top-end speed to win. But often I left myself way too much to do.
    Despite all those concerns the sprint events offered me my best chance of getting to Atlanta. Competition for the middle-distance events was fierce – they attracted the best athletes – and I knew I was a promising sprinter. So for now I focused on the 100m, 200m and 400m. As far as I was concerned I just wanted to represent my country, go to the Games and do my best. If the shorter distances got me my golden ticket to the Games, then so what?
    As Atlanta drew ever nearer I knew I was in contention. But it was a major battle to get the qualifying times I needed to get picked by the GB selectors. So, in the early part of 1996 I was a young man on a mission. I spent weeks chasing around the country trying to get the standard. In the end I only made the qualifying time by the skin of my teeth – about a day short of the cut-off point in May. I knew I was improving all the time and that the selectors might be looking to blood some new talent. The team wasn’t that strong and there were only a couple of real gold-medalcontenders