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  The run-up had been plotted well in advance. Having made the decision to quit Lee Valley in September 2011, I knew what I needed to do and when. I was so much happier back at St Mary’s, working with people I really trusted. Those guys really saved me. I spent a lot of time in January working on my strength in the gym and although I was still quite cautious about my shoulder, it was starting to feel better.

  As winter turned to spring, I headed to Portugal for a bit of much-needed sunshine and to test the new £10,000 racing chair which had been designed for me by scientists working for UK Sport and UK Athletics. After the Beijing Paralympics, the head of development at UK Sport came to meet me at St Mary’s. She explained that they had a four-year project and some funding to develop the best cutting-edge technology to help me win in London. She said she could help design new suits and helmets but also a brand-new, state-of-the-art chair for 2012. They even had the guys from British Cycling on board to help develop the technology, and engineers from British Aerospace to test the new kit in wind tunnels to make sure it was as efficient and aerodynamic as possible. It all seemed very impressive.

  But I have to admit I had my doubts about the whole thing from the start. I have had meetings with Formula 1 and with universities in the past and, frankly, I had heard it all before. I told her, ‘Look, if it’s going to work then come back in two months and show me something that is going to move forward.’

  But she did come back with a plan and it did move forward. It was a great project and I was excited about it. It was all kept very much under wraps.

  When I got to see the finished article that April in Portugal, I was really blown away. It was fantastic. The wheels were just something else – the amount of detail was mind-blowing. It was all black and made from carbon fibre. The cage I sit in was made from aluminium. The axle was all flat and it cut through the wind. The push rims on the wheels were also made of carbon fibre and had a petal design which cleverly locked them in tightly so they couldn’t move. There were two ceramic bearings put in the wheels to align perfect rolling movement. For the first time the wheels were specifically made for us. Normally we use cycling wheels which are adapted. But these were bespoke, all designed and crafted by the best designers and technicians at British Cycling. At first the project was just for me. But as time went on, other wheelchair racers were offered the chance to have a new chair designed for them. UK Sport wanted to transfer the marginal-gains approach of British Cycling’s performance director, Dave Brailsford, to the Paralympics. Brailsford had transformed cycling with his close attention to detail. If there was any little change – kit, bikes, diet, supplements, training, where his team stay, what beds they sleep on, anything at all – then he would introduce it to his athletes.

  Work had started on the chair in late 2008 and a lot of money, time and effort went into it. But sadly, in the end, I couldn’t use it. It was ready too late. I had told UK Sport that if I was going to adapt to it and get used to it in time for London then I really needed it eighteen months out from the Games. But I was presented with the finished product five months before the Paralympics. I don’t really blame anyone: in the end they had to build three more chairs – more than they expected – and other people and organisations got involved and interfered.

  The problem for me was that the chair just took too long to get up to top speed. So it was slower than my usual chair. The initial acceleration was not there – maybe it was too stiff. There was no flex in the wheels. I will use it at some point, maybe after the 2013 season, because I don’t want to waste it. I felt so bad to reject it given the amount of time and money UK Sport had spent on it. They didn’t say anything when I rejected it, they said ultimately it was all about my performance and if I thought it would hinder that then there was no way I should use it. I still used the suit and the helmet they developed for me, so all their hard work didn’t go entirely to waste. They accepted it was their fault that they had just got it to me too late. But I wish I could have used it. It looked fantastic on the track.

  Technology can obviously have a big influence in Paralympic sport – there are big advantages to be gained if you can get the most out of your kit. And the wheelchair athletes have learned a lot from the cyclists – especially technology-wise. Racing chairs have certainly come a very long way since people started competing in hospital chairs back in the 1940s and ’50s.

  My chairs are made for me by a company called Draft based in Huntingdon, near Cambridge. They have always been tailor-made and have been adapted and refined over the fifteen years that I have been working with them. By the time I was in my late teens the design had settled on the one which is so recognisable. Two wheels at the back, a seating cage or pod and then a long frame and set of forks holding a smaller front wheel. By the time Draft were making my chairs most frames were made from lightweight aluminium. But the seating then was very different to what we have now. It was essentially made out of webbing and nylon cloths. This meant it was nice and flexible to sit in – very good for beginners trying to get used to the slightly awkward racing position, where you have to lean right forward. But it moved around a bit too much and you got very tired quite quickly.

  By the time of the Beijing Games in 2008 most of the elite athletes had switched to a much better seating cage, which consisted of a welded aluminium plate you could rest your knees on, a solid seat with a small cushioned back rest and a pod in which you could secure your feet to stop them moving about. That is pretty much standard issue now, but no two racing chairs are the same. That’s because every athlete’s impairment dictates the type of adjustments and changes Draft and the other manufacturers have to make.

  My physique is pretty square and evenly spread, but others aren’t. Depending on their disability and what side of their body is affected, some could be more muscle bound on their left side than their right, or vice versa. Take, for example, an athlete with an impairment on his left side. If he can’t use that side, or is less able to use it, then he will have muscle wastage. That means the right side of his body will be much bulkier and that the chair will need extra padding on the left. There are so many different permutations and it takes Draft a lot of fine-tuning to get it right.

  The other thing that I have developed is a padded ratchet strap across the small of my back. This pulls my hips forward towards my folded legs when I am in the chair. It stabilises my body and makes me much more aerodynamic. In wheelchair racing you are always looking for the optimum position which allows you to be as streamlined as possible but still in a sufficiently upright position to push down on the rims of your back wheels. It’s a complex equation between power and aerodynamics and I did a lot of testing in wind tunnels in the run-up to the 2012 Games. I found there were huge gains to be had by moving lower and further forward but I also discovered that I couldn’t go too far forward as I started to lose power. Even now I know I am not pushing as hard as I could do in races, but the advantage from the aerodynamics more than compensates for that.

  The chair I race in weighs about 9 kilos with the wheels on. Chairs have actually got heavier over the years because the nylon-and-cloth seating was much lighter. Including the metal cage foot pod has added about 1.5 kilos. But chairs need to be heavier because athletes are getting so much more powerful now, and they have to withstand a lot of stress.

  On top of the long frame which runs down to the front wheel is a small set of handlebars. There have been various different styles over the years and they can be adapted for athletes with different levels of hand function but there are essentially two standard shapes. They are obviously essential to steer in marathons and other road races but in track racing the handlebars are only there for an emergency. Instead we use a brilliant gadget known as the compensator. It’s housed under the front frame and has two settings – one to go straight, the other for the bend. You might have wondered why you see wheelchair racers leaning forward and smashing the right-hand side of their chair, near the front wheel. Well, we are hitting the compe
nsator and by bashing it, you can guide the direction of the front wheel. As you bash it, a screw locks the wheel into the new position. So hit it on the left-hand side to steer left into the bend and the right-hand side to go back the other way as you come out. Before any race meeting I will go round and do a few laps to work out what degree of turn I need to get round the bends. Once I’ve worked that out, I set the compensator to the right angle. It’s a fantastic device and means that I can go on pushing the rims on the back wheels without having to constantly steer around the bends. If we had to do that we would all be going backwards!

  If you look at the markings on an athletics track you will see a line in each lane which indicates when the transition from straight to bend begins. There is another which indicates the start of the transition from bend to straight. As my front wheel hits the line I whack the compensator and the wheel turns. You would imagine that these tracks are pretty standard, but they aren’t. They can really vary so you have to get it right in those warm-ups or you could lose precious time on your rivals.

  The only other gadget I have on my chair is a cordless speedometer which gives me my current speed and average speed for any event. It also gives me the time I started, which is mostly useful for marathons. A lot of the guys use GPS systems, which can track where you are and compare where you were at certain times, but I don’t bother with that. I am more old school in that sense.

  All in, my chair is worth just under £5,000 with the wheels. And the wheels are a third of that cost. That’s because they are made from expensive carbon fibre and are specifically designed for wheelchairs. In fact, there are only three companies in the world that make the back wheels and one in the world that makes them for the front.

  In time, I am pretty sure a lot of the British guys and developed nations will be using carbon fibre frames. That will make them a little lighter but the main advantage will be that they will be much stiffer. When you’re racing you punch the wheels with incredible, repetitive force. This causes the wheels, which are set at an angle of 12 degrees, to deflect. This in turn causes them to rub on the rubber track, causing high levels of friction. After wind resistance, this is the thing which really holds back wheelchair racers like me. This effect is called scrubbing and during races the wheels scrub sideways as well as up and down. This partly explains why we all love hard tracks. The closer to concrete, the better. But that would never work for the runners, who want the track to be as cushioned as possible. So the only solution available to us for the time being is to develop a less flexible frame, which would reduce the movement as we push the back wheels and therefore impact on the tyres and the wheels. That would in turn reduce that friction, meaning we could go even faster.

  After fifteen years of working with me I obviously wanted Draft – a British company with a proven pedigree – to be involved. But a lot of people – Peter Eriksson included – didn’t agree. They wanted to take all the information that UK Sport had pulled together and give it to Top End, an American company. I said, ‘You can’t ask an American firm to build chairs for British athletes.’ I couldn’t understand it. It was just another example of me and the establishment not seeing eye to eye.

  When it came down to it, the manufacturer made no difference. I couldn’t risk the new chair. I decided I would stick with my old aluminium one. It was less stable and less fancy but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  As it was, the head of the French Paralympic team claimed I was doping in technology during the Games. I don’t know what he was getting at there. The racing chair I had was no different to the ones the French were using. Actually, my wheels were made in France. Sure, I had been training in wind tunnels but anyone can do that. The Swiss have been doing that for years. But then the French said the cyclists’ wheels were too round in the Olympics! Maybe the French felt they didn’t have the money to compete with us and so couldn’t invest in the technology. For me, the French moaning was a tribute to how professional British sport had become. It made me very proud.

  I came back from Portugal to get ready for the London Marathon. This race was always a highlight of my season. It’s the reason I started competing. But this year it felt like a grand warm-up to the main event. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to win it, though. I wanted to set the tone for the rest of 2012. Before the race I told my rivals, ‘What I’d say to the guys coming to London is that my training is going great and I don’t think I’ve ever felt in such good shape at this point in the year. I’m averaging about 80 miles a week in the chair.’

  It was much closer than I would have liked but I just pipped Marcel and Team USA’s Krige Schabort to the line for my sixth win. It meant I had equalled Tanni Grey-Thompson’s record of victories in London. That meant a lot. Tanni was one of the big reasons I got back into the sport after losing my way at the end of the 1990s. If it hadn’t been for her amazing performances in Sydney I might never have come back.

  But I also hinted to reporters after the race that 2012 could be my last marathon.

  Emily was pregnant again and we were expecting baby number two in October. I told the press, ‘There’s not a lot of goals left. I’ll definitely take a year out after the Paralympics because I want to spend some time with my family.’

  I should have learned by now never to try to predict the future.

  Inevitably, as Games time draws closer the demands on your time from sponsors and the media grow. I accept that it’s part of the job, and for most Paralympians the attention is so rare that you have to make the most of it when it comes along. But that doesn’t mean that we deserve to be ripped off, either. In May I agreed to do a promotional photo shoot for a company that approached me. They offered me less than £1,000 for a couple of days’ work.

  Now, that might seem a lot to some people but when you compare it to the sorts of sums the able-bodied guys were getting then it’s nothing. I was very disappointed. Ultimately we don’t do it for money but when you see what others are getting you start asking questions. I am sure people just imagine we all get the same as the Olympians. It’s simply not true.

  In the end my agent, Jamie Baulch from Definitive Sports, spoke to them and they agreed to pay me a bit more. You have to fight your corner in those situations. It was a whole day out of my training programme and those were so valuable. I don’t want people to think I am not grateful for the support I receive from companies who wish to work with me but it just made me think that, once again, we do get treated a bit like second-class citizens.

  Managing all the extra stuff that comes your way in a Paralympic year is always crazy. But this year was like nothing else I had experienced. I was lucky because Jamie was an athlete, and he understands that all commitments have to come second to the training and preparation. So we had a game plan that all interviews and sponsor commitments would be finished by June, allowing me to just concentrate on getting it right on the track.

  I tried to limit my racing that summer. I didn’t want to overdo it in such a crucial year and with such a big prize waiting at the end. I did a test event in the Olympic Stadium in May. Although the crowd was a bit disappointing – only 2,000 people in an arena which holds 80,000 – it was a good opportunity to try out some new gloves and see how my tyres went on the newly laid Mondo track. Winning didn’t matter and, besides, none of the big foreign names were there.

  UK Athletics hadn’t invited them because they were worrying about giving our rivals an advantage. Earlier in the year the British cycling team had complained about holding a UCI World Cup as a test event in the shiny new London Velodrome. Although it was great for the British team to get a taste of what that venue would be like, it also gave all the other countries a sneak preview. That was a bit short sighted and I think UKA had learned from that.

  The racing schedule Jenny drew up was supposed to keep me sharp but not overdo it. But everything nearly came unstuck when I had a bad crash at a meeting in Pratteln in Switzerland. Crashes are part and parcel of wheelchair racing and while they
can look shocking they’re often not as bad as they look. This one was.

  I don’t remember too much about it but I know I was at the back of the pack and was putting on a bit of a sprint around a bend when Kurt Fearnley suddenly veered into my racing line. He caught my wheel and I went flying up in the air, hitting my head badly as I crashed back down on the track. Emily was there with Mason and she was really worried. I grazed my temple and was a bit dazed but I was basically OK. I was more worried about my chair. But I admit I was a bit shaken up by it. It did teach me one lesson, though. In London I couldn’t take the chance of trying to win from the back of the field.

  I learned another valuable lesson when I moved on to another meeting in Switzerland, this time at the Swiss Paralympic Centre in Nottwil. I was racing a 1,500m and I asked Jenny what she thought of the idea of me leading a race from the front to see if I could win from there. I gave it a go.

  I felt good out on my own and I was setting a really fast pace but with 250 metres to go Marcel Hug and the whole pack came past me. I must have come seventh or eighth. I knew now that I needed a bit more fitness and endurance. Wise as ever, Jenny told me after the race that she knew that already but it was good I found out for myself.

  Peter Eriksson didn’t see it that way. He was going crazy. He couldn’t understand what I was doing, acting as a pacemaker for such a good field. He felt I should have been winning races myself, not experimenting.

  Jenny was really upset by this. She gave him what for.

  Afterwards I went up to him and asked him why he had said what he said to Jenny. But he was in denial. He said he didn’t have a row with Jenny. I told him, if you want me to win in London you have to leave me to do it the way I want to do it. I never really listened to him. I just listened to Jenny and to myself. We have a good understanding. I am the one in the middle of the race, she can see it from a distance. Others don’t get it. When people ask her what my tactics are, she explains that she does talk about it with me but in the end leaves it up to me to work it out. I’m the one in the race, the one in the middle.