To get better you have to move on quickly.
That was the reality of the business. I’d learnt you had to find different goals straightaway to better yourself. There were two to tick off immediately after Daegu.
The first had been a long-term goal, and there was a $40,000 reason to have the second one on my list.
We were staying in Europe to chase the riches on offer in the Diamond League series, where the winner took home a healthy bonus. Given I had my eyes on another house on the Gold Coast, the extra 40k was going to come in very handy. The Diamond League final was in Brussels, but before that I had three races scheduled.
Six days after winning the world title, I was in Zurich lining up against the same girls. My Achilles had been sore in the lead-up and it had flared in unusual circumstances – on the dance floor. The celebrations for my world title had taken off after the 4x100m relay heats, even though they hadn’t gone according to plan.
A stuff-up in the changeover from Melissa Breen to Charlotte van Veenendaal cost us dearly, and while I’d managed to catch the British runner in the final leg to finish third in the heat, it wasn’t enough to qualify for the final.
I finally got my hands on the gold medal after the relay. The ceremony had been as good as I’d imagined – just the pure joy I felt watching the Australian flag rise above the stadium and singing along to the national anthem was simply magnificent.
We’d celebrated appropriately at a big party in the village. I’d had a few drinks but sweated all the alcohol out of my system by going crazy on the dance floor.
I woke up the next day with a sore Achilles, and by the time I got to Zurich it was a problem. Straightaway I sought American massage therapist Andy Miller, who was renowned on the tour as the best in the business.
His magic worked and by the morning of the race I was virtually pain free. That was positive, but I found myself feeling very nervous in the lead-up because I didn’t want to lose the first time I ran with the title of world champion. My concerns were unwarranted and I ran surprisingly fast to win in 12.52, almost 3 metres ahead of Dawn Harper.
Next on the agenda was a trip to Rieti, Italy, which Sharon and I had been planning for months. For years I’d wanted to break Melinda Gainsford-Taylor’s 17-year-old 100m flat national record of 11.12, and Rieti was the perfect setting. The Italian mountain town was at high altitude and the track was renowned for its fast times, with Asafa Powell setting the 100m world record there in 2007.
Everything seemed ideal; the only problem was I felt like crap at the start line and had a feeling no records were going to be broken.
I figured it was the jet lag, given it’s always at its worst a week after you change time zones, but despite all of this I started well and at halfway was leading before Jamaica’s Schillonie Calvert came over the top to win in 11.09.
I faded to finish second in the disappointing time of 11.24. Afterwards people couldn’t understand why I was so upset at the result. ‘Don’t worry, you’re the world champion,’ they all said, but I hated not ticking off one of my goals.
It just made me even more determined to make sure I nailed down the second short-term goal. My next race was in Zagreb and I came away with my 19th consecutive win in the hurdles. Despite starting to feel the effects of a long season, I still managed to win in 12.68 with Harper second (12.81).
The scenario was simple for Brussels. I led the standings, but only by one point from American Danielle Carruthers, with Kellie Wells a further point behind – so it was a case of winner takes all.
I found myself feeling quite anxious leading into the race as I was going home the next day, so there was a lot of pressure to cap off the best season of my life on the right note. My start was once again on the money and I felt good over the first hurdle before something caught my eye.
The girl across from me in lane two was ahead. Noone had got near me out of the blocks that year and I was distracted by her in my vision.
What is she doing? Who the hell is this girl?
Suddenly I lost all awareness of what was happening.
Am I behind? Do I need to go faster?
The pace was hot going over the fourth hurdle, possibly too hot as I found out at the fifth. I hit it. Hard.
I stumbled and just managed to stay upright to get over the sixth, but then I was gone, hitting the deck after crashing through the seventh. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen over and quickly got to my feet and walked off.
I was in shock and suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The tears were coming as Brigitte Foster-Hylton and Wells came over to see if I was all right.
‘Don’t worry, you didn’t do it in the world champs final like I did,’ said Wells, who was in medals calculation when she fell in Daegu.
Carruthers had won the final in 12.65 and the $40,000 bonus.
I was devastated. All I wanted to do was hide away and cry. It wasn’t the money; I was just pissed off that I’d ended such an amazing year in that fashion. What made it worse was Sharon later had our biomechanist look at the race, and he said from the blocks to over the third hurdle I’d been on world-record pace.
That night Kieran copped the brunt of my tantrum, but eventually I calmed down enough to enjoy a couple of bottles of French champagne with my aunt and uncle, who’d made the trip to Brussels.
My arrival back home in Australia was going to be big on a number of fronts.
I was landing on the Gold Coast on 19 September, which was my 25th birthday, and my hometown was putting on a parade and civic reception to celebrate. Well, sort of.
The parade was happening, but it wasn’t for my birthday – it was a welcome-home event that I was sharing with tennis player Samantha Stosur, who’d just won her first Grand Slam at the US Open. It turned out we’d both attended the same high school and had been members of the Queensland Academy of Sport.
I was surprised at the number of people who were there to see us presented with the keys to the City of the Gold Coast.
‘I will be living the athlete’s dream next year when I win the [London Olympics] gold medal,’ I told the crowd, which was cheering loudly. ‘Right now I’ve ticked one of two boxes, and that’s winning the world championship.’ It was a great occasion, but all I wanted to do was get home and reward myself by eating normally with a special treat of some chocolate and cake.
Two months later, I was back on a plane for a very good reason. I’d been nominated for the IAAF female athlete of the year and had to fly to Monaco for the awards ceremony. It was such an honour to even be considered, and I’d figured my fall in Brussels had probably cost me any chance of winning. Kieran and I were happy to just go and enjoy ourselves for a few days in one of my favourite cities.
That all changed when there was a knock on the door of our hotel room a few hours before the dinner. It was a woman from the IAAF, and she let herself in and sat down.
‘I just wanted to tell you that you’ve won the award,’ she said.
‘What?’ I almost screamed. ‘Am I supposed to be hearing this?’
She went on to explain that they announced the winners to the international press before the dinner because the night went too late. I also had to attend a press conference with the male winner, Usain Bolt, in a couple of hours. It was a bit of a letdown to find out I’d won then, rather than hear my name read out on stage.
‘It would be good if you could wear something smart to the press conference,’ the lady said.
That was a problem. I’d only brought one dress with me, and I was in the most expensive place in the world. Luckily I knew of a place where Sharon had purchased something the year before, where the prices were half reasonable. We raced down there and found a simple black cocktail dress, which was perfect.
The best part of the press conference was the fact that I got to spend some time with Usain, which completely changed my perception of the fastest man on the planet. On TV he came across as cocky and sometimes disrespectful, but in real life he was the coolest guy ever and passionate about his running. We did a photo shoot together. His manager, who had his wife with him, was also there and we spent most of the time joking around taking our own photos.
Kieran and I had a couple of hours to kill before the dinner so we just chilled out up in our room. I left it until the last minute to get ready because the function was downstairs in our hotel, so we didn’t have far to go.
Or so I thought.
When we arrived down there I saw a number of people in full military uniform and figured that Prince Albert of Monaco had invited some of his policemen to the event. A photographer took our photo and we sat down with a glass of champagne.
‘I don’t know anyone here,’ I said to Kieran. ‘Where are the other athletes?’
Everyone started to move into the dining room and I went over and looked at the seating plan.
‘Kieran, our names aren’t here. I can’t see my name anywhere.’
Then I looked up at the sign. We were at the National Police Gala Dinner! I had the invitation in my bag and quickly pulled it out to find that the IAAF dinner was at the Sports Museum – not the hotel.
We bolted out of there. I was sprinting through the foyer of the hotel in this long, flowing gown when, thankfully, we spotted someone in an IAAF shirt.
‘Where do we go?’ I said.
He sensed our panic. ‘Get in this car.’
We arrived at the function just as the IAAF president had started his speech and everyone was seated. Naturally, our table was at the very front. I was annoyed that the officials who’d been so keen to tell me I’d won earlier in the day hadn’t bothered to ensure we had a ride to the dinner.
‘We didn’t know if you were coming!’ one of them said.
What? I felt like jumping over the table at her. As if I wasn’t going to attend – I was the goddamn winner!
The bonus was it meant I had some good material for my speech, and the crowd seemed to enjoy the tale.
We were then summoned to Prince Albert’s table, where Kieran got to sit next to Usain and they talked about cars for half an hour.
While the night had been a crazy one, I found myself sneaking a few moments of reflection. When I was a teenager I’d watch the Golden League on TV and always wonder how you got to run in those events. What did you have to do? Did people tell you that you could go in those races? Did you ask someone if you could run in them? Did you need to have a manager? All these questions went through my mind as I was finding my way in the sport.
It’s funny, because I’d always had the mentality that I wanted to be the best in the world. I never wanted to be the best in Australia; all my training and competing was aimed at becoming the best in the world. It was something that came naturally to me. Mum says I didn’t get this drive from her and I figured this self-belief, which was a big reason for my success, had got stronger and stronger as I progressed in the sport. Believing in myself was the key to everything, and while this is always tested in younger athletes, those who can maintain it will always come out on top.
Even when I was running slow times, I was still thinking that was I going to be the best in the world.
Now I was.
Usain Bolt (centre left) and I (centre right) were awarded male and female Athlete of the Year in 2011 at the IAAF World Gala on 12 November 2011 in Monte Carlo. We are flanked by the president of the IAAF, Lamine Diack, and Prince Albert II of Monaco. (Photo by Frederic Nebinger/Getty Images)
* * *
It was the email I’d been waiting a long time to receive.
Part of being what I called a ‘big deal’ with my major sponsor, adidas, was having your name on your running spikes. It was a small thing, but to me it meant you’d made it. Only a select few adidas clients had their names on their running spikes, and it was seen as a privilege and honour to be given the opportunity. I’d actually been a little annoyed it hadn’t happened earlier because some other Australian athletes, who were sponsored by ASICS, including Melissa Breen and 400m runner Sean Wroe, had their names on their shoes.
The norm was to go with a nickname. Olympic 400m champion Jeremy Wariner had ‘Pookie’ on his because it was his nickname at university. New 100m world champion Yohan Blake had ‘The Beast’ on his shoes. I didn’t really have a nickname, but the closest thing we could think of was my email address – Kwikchik – which I’d set up years ago when I was starting out.
Even now I still get as excited as I did when I received my first package from adidas. Funnily enough, my first ever delivery from my sponsor went to the wrong house. I’d spent so much time looking over the catalogue and choosing what gear I wanted that I even wrote down the code numbers and included them in the email just to make sure they sent the right items.
We waited and waited for the package before finally I rang them up and asked what had happened. They said they’d sent it a month earlier, but it turned out someone had written down the wrong address. I tracked down where they’d sent the package and knocked on the door of the house where a little old lady answered and said she hadn’t signed for it because it wasn’t hers. Luckily the courier company still had it, so eventually they delivered my first bunch of goodies, which included the latest adidas T-shirts and tracksuits. There were similar excitement levels about the new spikes, which I was to pick up when I arrived in Europe.
I had no trouble getting back into training because I was still really focused on the two-year plan and knew only half the job had been done. We were going to stick as close as possible to the formula that had won the world title, but Sharon and I both agreed a change in the early part of 2012 was required. Given the lack of competition in Australia, a trip to Turkey in March for the World Indoor Championships was the challenge I needed.
My first race of the Olympic year was at the Brisbane Track Classic, and it showed I was tracking beautifully given I produced an 11.25 in the 100m. We deliberately programmed a busy racing season but didn’t introduce the hurdles until Perth in February, where I clipped the sixth hurdle but still ran 12.86. A week later at the Sydney Track Classic there was significant improvement, with victory in 12.66.
The Olympic Games selection trials were on 2–3 March in Melbourne, where there was a change of scenery. A new track had been built in Albert Park after the state government had approved the knocking down of Olympic Park, which was being turned into a training ground for the Collingwood Football Club. It was sad to see a place where so many great athletes had competed gone, but there was some hope that the new facility would give more assistance to sprinters.
The weather was always an issue in Melbourne, but I was actually excited about the hurdles when I woke up on the morning of the race to find it raining heavily and the trees not moving outside my hotel room. Rain was better than wind, and the previous night I’d won the 100m in 11.67 but it was into a stiff headwind of –2.3 metres per second.
The damp but still conditions were ideal for the hurdles and I nailed it, clocking 12.49 – the fourth fastest time of my career.
‘Holy crap!’ was my reaction, and that’s exactly what I told the waiting media pack.
‘I know I can’t swear, what can I say? It’s really fantastic. It’s really exciting, but at the same time I have to keep grounded and stay focused on the London Olympics; that’s still a fair way away and a lot more training to go. I’m in good shape and loving it and I’m going to look after myself, that’s all I can do.’
Shortly afterwards I was back on the blocks for the 200m. All I wanted was to break 23 seconds and I was convinced it would happen that night.
It didn’t.
I fell just 3/100ths of a second short. The time of 23.02 equalled my personal best, which I’d set back in 2009. Why were the athletics gods punishing me?
My frustration was quickly forgotten as I boarded the plane for Istanbul the next day. I needed a hit of international racing again. I loved the craziness, the intensity, the vibe that you got at overseas meets – and without the world indoors, I would have been waiting until the middle of the year for my hit in Europe.
There was a small Australian team competing and there was an expectation that I would challenge the world 60m indoor hurdles record of 7.68. This was only my second time competing indoors so I was still a bit unsure about the whole thing.
My concerns were quickly erased in the heat when I broke the Australian record, clocking 7.85 to win easily.
The semifinal the following night was a different story. I learnt it wasn’t a good idea to stuff up the start in a 60m race and I was forced to work super hard to get back into the race, which I managed to win in 7.93 from Belgium’s Eline Berings (8.03).
There was a two-hour gap until the final, and while I was confident of victory, I felt I hadn’t done enough to earn the world record because I wasn’t experienced enough at the whole indoor caper. My hunch was right again, although I went very close.
I was a world champion again after crossing the line in 7.73 – the fourth fastest time in history – and just .05 off the world record.
Leaping with excitement after winning gold at the women’s 60m hurdles final at the 2012 IAAF World Indoor Athletics Championships in Istanbul, Turkey. (Photo by Gabriel Bouys/AFP/Getty Images)
Another goal had been ticked off the list. As I did a victory lap, my Australian teammate Henry Frayne was on the runway in the long jump. He told me later he was so pumped about my win that it helped him produce his best jump of the night to claim the silver medal.
I knew what was coming in the media conference afterwards, as I was aware of the growing theory that I was peaking too early in the Olympic year.
‘Everyone thinks it every single year, and every year I have gone on and won … I don’t know how many more times I have to prove I haven’t peaked too early,’ I said.
The medal ceremony was a bit of a fizzer, with the ‘gold medal’ more like a cheap plastic imitation.
I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the real thing in five months’ time.