my heart bleeds…
I have to admit that by the end of the athletics world cup the other week I was sick to the back teeth of hearing athlete, after athlete, bleat on about the sacrifices they’ve had to make to get to where they are today.
Step forward the worst culprit by far, apparently good-egg-all-round nice guy, Somalia born British 5km & 10km international runner, Mo Farah. Mo’s most recent oft-repeated sacrifice has involved having to up-sticks and head-out, with his family, to the undiscovered wilderness that is modern day Arizona. Here, he’s teamed up with many more of the world’s finest athletes taking full advantage of the world’s best coaches, sports psychologists, dieticians, health & conditioning specialists and all available facilities, including I found out this morning during a radio interview, an underwater treadmill. The attention to detail concerning the needs of the athlete both physically and mentally is unparallel. And once he overcomes the obvious trauma, he has to do exactly what…oh, go running. Poor ol’ Mo, do you think he misses more North London or Somalia?
And why do you think they all make such deep sacrifices? Could it have anything to do with the potential fame & fortune that awaits them? Perhaps it’s about the Nike or Adidas buck? What about the life after sport’s fame on the treadmill of celebrity big brother and strictly come dancing? Betcha it is.
I, like many of you, also make sacrifices to follow the sports I play – Saturday morning swimming in the lake, Sunday morning cursing Marlow’s hills on the bike and as many evenings as my legs can take on the squash court – and why do I this? Because I love it and because I’m still able to have the opportunity to do so. I more than realise how lucky I am, it’s about time the privileged and pampered professional did so too.
