Backstraight Boys Athletics Chat

Watching Christine Ohoruogo race was exhausting. The gun would go. She'd be in the mix. You'd not panic - knowing that her finish was her greatest strength. Another hundred metres would pass. She'd look off the pace. The butterflies would begin. You'd quell them. 'It's fine. Chrissy finishes like a train.' The athletes would exit the bend. Ohoruogo not even amongst the medals. The butterflies set loose. You'd leap from your seat. 'She's left it too late. Even Christine can't pull this off.' But, wait! With eighty or so to go, she'd start to move through the field. Are they slowing down? Is she speeding up? Who cares? Britain's finest every quarter-miler would surge through the standings, and - implausibly - produce the goods. She'd have a new international medal. You'd have a few new grey hairs. Each and every time she'd get you with one of the sport's most exhilarating pranks: waiting until the last minute to remind you