My next event, scheduled for September 2nd and 3rd, was the British Masters Championships, giving me a luxurious three weeks to recover from the Inter-Counties. That’s 21 whole days. Surely, that’s enough time to heal from a small detail like a rebellious groin and a back with its own agenda? In those three weeks, I enlisted the help of two physios, a sports therapist, and fellow M60 athlete Mike Vassilou, all of whom worked diligently to get me race-ready. Sadly, my body had other plans. Any relief in my back was quickly replaced by a groin pain so persistent, I began to wonder if it had taken out a long-term lease.
Still, despite being in about as optimal a condition as a rusty old bicycle, I refused to withdraw from the British Championships. Prior commitments, and perhaps an overly optimistic belief in miracles, led me to Derby, where I placed all my hopes on the British Masters Medical Team. They made some adjustments, giving my back and hip flexors a new lease on life, but quick movements from a starting position? Not happening. So, sensibly, I withdrew from the 100m and 200m, deciding instead to focus on the 400m, because if you’re going to limp through a race, you may as well make it a long one.
At the starting line, I felt reasonably okay during warm-up. That feeling lasted approximately two seconds. Having to start from a standstill for the first time, due to my back’s ongoing rebellion, I almost toppled over, much to the amusement of the spectators, no doubt. We aborted the start and tried again. When the gun finally fired, my back spasmed immediately, sending me hobbling through the first dozen strides like someone trying to avoid stepping on hot coals. The spasm eased briefly only to return on the home straight, just when I was really starting to enjoy myself. The rest of the race is a blur of pain, stubbornness, and disbelief that I didn’t end up face-first on the track.
Miraculously, and I use that word generously, I somehow secured a silver medal. A small victory in a race that I mostly remember for its comedic value. The next morning, however, my back was demanding its share of attention again, reminding me that victories, no matter how small, come at a price.
Congratulations to Sean Price on a well-deserved win, and a huge thanks to the Medical Team for stitching me back together long enough to drive myself home to Newcastle, because if you can’t run without pain, you might as well sit still for a few hours in a car.
Stuart Lynn - Masters Athlete 