STATE OF PLAY
Guides for visually impaired athletes are an integral part of parasport, but they aren’t looking for material reward. Tim Heming explains…
The Virgin London Marathon has become involved in a spat over not officially awarding finishers’ medals to the guide runners of visually impaired athletes. It was called out by the Royal National Institute of Blind People and British Blind Sport, the latter’s chief exec, Alaina MacGregor, telling The Telegraph that she was disappointed the event would “not offer recognition to these amazing individuals, without whom many visually impaired people would not be able to go running.” It was then picked up and swung around on social media, championing the cause for seemingly disgruntled guides.
On face value, it might seem an anomaly worthy of correction. Guides play an invaluable role in enabling visually impaired athletes to train for and compete in endurance sport. The varied skill-set stretches beyond athletic competency to being assured pace-setters, confident communicators and calm under increasing duress.
But as Hugh Brasher, London Marathon’s event director, points out, they are “not official participants in the race, and therefore do not receive a timing chip, do not appear in the official results or receive a finisher medal.”
Brasher’s correct. Visually impaired athletes are DQ’d if their guide crosses the line first and while it’s rarely, if ever, enforced, the principle underscores how guides in marathons are facilitators, not there to enhance performance. If they are to receive medals, so too should all the wonderful marshals, St John Ambulance staff and every other volunteer connected with the race.
I’ve guided in the London Marathon, and recently joined a training day for VI paratriathletes in London. It’s the most rewarding sporting challenge I’ve experienced and, struggling to do justice to the sense of worth it brings, my advice would be: just try it. But if anyone believes deserved recognition is to award an official medal, then they’re missing the point. The rewards are intrinsic, borne of our compulsion to help others fulfil their potential, and if you seek any external validation then, trust me, you’ll hear it with every stride from supporters that carry VI runners and their guides round the course on a wave of positivity.
Admittedly, triathlon guiding is different in philosophy in that the advantages of being a strong cyclist on the tandem are self-evident. In 2016, Australia’s Michellie Jones won Paralympic gold when guiding Katie Kelly. Jones was the silver medallist in Sydney 2000 Olympics and an all-time great. While it made for a good story, it also became about Jones’s talents. I’ve mixed feelings about this, but until technology advances to allow VI triathletes to race independently it will be a team game; British Triathlon even has a talent ID programme for guides to boost medal chances for Tokyo 2020.
What is clear though, is that whether a marathon or triathlon, it is GUIDE, not a surname, that’s stamped on the kit as a homogenous reminder that the performance – and therefore the medal – is about the VI athlete. I’d wager that for most guides, it’s just the way they’d want it.
“If you believe recognition means awarding a medal, you’re missing the point”