By Kerry Curson
I was never the sportiest of children. I lost every race that I can remember and didn’t even make it as far as the swimming pool when I had been nominated to enter a gala one year; I’d spent the entire time in the queue vomiting due to my nerves. I was quickly labelled a health and safety risk to the water and had to forfeit my place. Not great memories of sport from my childhood, except for one. I must have been nine or ten when I had been called into a relay team for a competition between school s. It was the first time I had been to a real race track, with its winding red tarmac just inviting you to daydream of victory.