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Authors: Oscar Pistorius
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breaking very easily.
Living in South Africa meant we had very limited access to
the more technologically advanced prostheses designed for
sportspeople, but one advantage was that I was the equivalent
of a guinea pig for Chris, and he designed my prosthetics
with my specific needs in mind. His talent was such that in
2003 he was headhunted by an American firm and went to
live and work in America. In June 2004 he invited me to fly
to the USA and trial their new brand of prostheses, known
as Cheetahs. Cheetahs, first produced in the late 1990s, are
probably the most popular prosthetic limb on the market.
Constructed from carbon fibre, they give their users unprecedented
freedom because of their particular combination of
durability and lightness. Ever since that first trial Cheetahs
have been my running legs.
When I began training with Ampie my sole objective was
to qualify for my rugby team, but gradually I found myself
developing a taste for athletics. I realised that the main
reason I had hated it as a young child was because of my
heavy prostheses – they weighed more than 3 kilos each –
which made running incredibly difficult. The weight of the
prostheses helped me develop muscle tone but made me
cumbersome, whereas with the Cheetahs, which were about
half the weight, athletics suddenly became fun and I began to
think I might be able to achieve something.
Three weeks into my training programme, on 28 January,
I took part in my first 100-metre race. My favourite teacher,
Mrs Miller, had decided to register me for the race. Mrs
Miller was one of my greatest fans, a charming and rather
eccentric woman who, particularly after my mother's passing,
took a great interest in my life. She even took it upon
herself to counsel me about my romantic interests. At one of
our school dances, after a row with my then girlfriend, I
retreated to a corner alone. She noticed my maudlin behaviour
and came to reassure me that all would right itself. She
even topped it off by hugging me in front of everyone. My
friends really took me to task about that one.
On this occasion she had taken the initiative of telephoning
the organisers of the race in Bloemfontein to enquire
whether they would allow an athlete running on prostheses
to compete. She had met with a lukewarm reaction, but her
faith in me made her persistent, and eventually she managed
to bring them round. I think they all expected me to come
last, but as it turned out I won the race easily. It was an
incredible experience. All the spectators – people representing
all the different schools – were on their feet shouting my
name and applauding. To add to my delight, I was also part
of the school's relay team. I ran the last leg, and my
performance clinched the trophy for my school.
My father was watching me and was riveted by my
performance. I had not seen him as excited and energised in
a long time. He was jumping up and down, repeating to all
who would listen to him: 'Oscar completed the 100 metres
in 11.72! That's incredible, that's a really good time!'
As soon as we got home he started phoning all his closest
friends to tell them about my achievement. At first I was
touched at his elation and amused by his pride, but once his
friends started calling to congratulate me I told him he had
overstepped the mark. I thought my father was exaggerating.
That evening he, ever the stubborn Pistorius, spent his time
researching on the internet and compiling information about
disabled athletes, comparing my time with that of other
athletes in this category. At the time we knew absolutely
nothing about the Paralympics. He discovered that I would
be classified as a T43, the category which covers bilateral
amputees, and to our collective amazement he read that my
time, 11.72 for 100 metres, was in fact a new world record.
Until then the record had stood at 12.20.
From that moment things started to move very quickly.
Using Chris's prostheses, within the month I had improved
my time from 11.72
Living in South Africa meant we had very limited access to
the more technologically advanced prostheses designed for
sportspeople, but one advantage was that I was the equivalent
of a guinea pig for Chris, and he designed my prosthetics
with my specific needs in mind. His talent was such that in
2003 he was headhunted by an American firm and went to
live and work in America. In June 2004 he invited me to fly
to the USA and trial their new brand of prostheses, known
as Cheetahs. Cheetahs, first produced in the late 1990s, are
probably the most popular prosthetic limb on the market.
Constructed from carbon fibre, they give their users unprecedented
freedom because of their particular combination of
durability and lightness. Ever since that first trial Cheetahs
have been my running legs.
When I began training with Ampie my sole objective was
to qualify for my rugby team, but gradually I found myself
developing a taste for athletics. I realised that the main
reason I had hated it as a young child was because of my
heavy prostheses – they weighed more than 3 kilos each –
which made running incredibly difficult. The weight of the
prostheses helped me develop muscle tone but made me
cumbersome, whereas with the Cheetahs, which were about
half the weight, athletics suddenly became fun and I began to
think I might be able to achieve something.
Three weeks into my training programme, on 28 January,
I took part in my first 100-metre race. My favourite teacher,
Mrs Miller, had decided to register me for the race. Mrs
Miller was one of my greatest fans, a charming and rather
eccentric woman who, particularly after my mother's passing,
took a great interest in my life. She even took it upon
herself to counsel me about my romantic interests. At one of
our school dances, after a row with my then girlfriend, I
retreated to a corner alone. She noticed my maudlin behaviour
and came to reassure me that all would right itself. She
even topped it off by hugging me in front of everyone. My
friends really took me to task about that one.
On this occasion she had taken the initiative of telephoning
the organisers of the race in Bloemfontein to enquire
whether they would allow an athlete running on prostheses
to compete. She had met with a lukewarm reaction, but her
faith in me made her persistent, and eventually she managed
to bring them round. I think they all expected me to come
last, but as it turned out I won the race easily. It was an
incredible experience. All the spectators – people representing
all the different schools – were on their feet shouting my
name and applauding. To add to my delight, I was also part
of the school's relay team. I ran the last leg, and my
performance clinched the trophy for my school.
My father was watching me and was riveted by my
performance. I had not seen him as excited and energised in
a long time. He was jumping up and down, repeating to all
who would listen to him: 'Oscar completed the 100 metres
in 11.72! That's incredible, that's a really good time!'
As soon as we got home he started phoning all his closest
friends to tell them about my achievement. At first I was
touched at his elation and amused by his pride, but once his
friends started calling to congratulate me I told him he had
overstepped the mark. I thought my father was exaggerating.
That evening he, ever the stubborn Pistorius, spent his time
researching on the internet and compiling information about
disabled athletes, comparing my time with that of other
athletes in this category. At the time we knew absolutely
nothing about the Paralympics. He discovered that I would
be classified as a T43, the category which covers bilateral
amputees, and to our collective amazement he read that my
time, 11.72 for 100 metres, was in fact a new world record.
Until then the record had stood at 12.20.
From that moment things started to move very quickly.
Using Chris's prostheses, within the month I had improved
my time from 11.72
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