Jessica Ennis: Unbelievable - From My Childhood Dreams to Winning Olympic Gold by Jessica Ennis Page A
Authors: Jessica Ennis
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Sports
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would have been the very worst thing for me. I had a nice home in Yorkshire but they wanted me to go and live in an athlete’s house, which would have been going back to university and living in halls. Charles said I would have everything I needed at the centre, but it wasn’t just about that. Andy had a job in Sheffield and my family and friends were all there. I like to have separation in my life and do things outside of sport. He didn’t get it. I don’t like conflict, but if it is something that I am passionate about then I will put my foot down and argue until the sun comes down.
Eventually, he saw where I was coming from, but he still wanted me to move and tried to get Chell’s job based down there to force it.
‘I’m loyal to you,’ Chell said. ‘If you don’t want to go then we don’t.’
We didn’t. I had never even competed in London and it would have been bad for me professionally and personally. I was world champion and I wanted to walk my dog with Hannah and have friends round for dinner. It was all so unnecessary.
The performances remained good. In May 2010, I went back to Götzis, in Austria. I told the media that I was not bothered about what had happened there before, but of course I was. Everything reminded me of how my world had caved in two years earlier – the mountains, the physio room, the woman in heels in the town hall pointing out how small I was. However, I had no problems this time other than the black sky and thunderous rain. The top girls were there and Chernova really stuck at me, trimming my lead to 77 points going into the final event, but I responded and won the 800 metres.
There had been a lot of talk of me breaking Denise Lewis’s British record beforehand. It had stood at 6831 points since 2000. ‘People talk about Denise’s record but you can’t think beyond one event,’ I told a group of journalists. ‘Get that wrong and it messes up the whole thing and that’s when it’s hard. You take a few minutes for self-pity, have a little cry and then try to put it into perspective.’
When did I cry during a heptathlon, I was asked? ‘Osaka,’ I said immediately. ‘Close to tears, anyway. You work so hard to make everything right and then something goes wrong and you want to kick yourself and disappear.’ I thought about just how many tears I had shed, from Beijing to the boiler breaking down, and smiled.
The issue of doping came up again. I said I could not understand why anyone would do it. The reporter suggested money, fame or jealousy? ‘But is it worth the risk of people thinking you’re a disgrace, let alone the health issues?’ I said. ‘Anyway, my family would kill me.’
Then, with everything going smoothly, came another clobbering. The ankle problem I had at the start of the year was replaced by a major scare just before the European Championships in Barcelona. It started after a training session in Leeds. I felt a bit faint and just thought I was probably a bit dehydrated and so I sat down, drank something and felt okay to drive home. I trained the next day and thought nothing of it. I went home to get ready to go out for a friend’s birthday and then the whole room started to spin. It was frightening. I tried to stand up, but that made it worse, the room spun quicker and I felt sick. I couldn’t even move my head from one side to another. I wondered what was going on; I was panicking. I lay down on the bed and rang Andy.
‘Can you come home? There’s something’s wrong with me.’
The EIS doctor, Richard Higgins, came out and said it was probably a virus that was affecting my inner ear. He prescribed some tablets and said that my balance would improve. Sure enough it did for a few days, but then I had another attack and it was back to square one. You start to imagine the worst in situations like that, especially after I went back to Google. I read about people who had the same thing and could never drive again. Before long I was wondering if
Eventually, he saw where I was coming from, but he still wanted me to move and tried to get Chell’s job based down there to force it.
‘I’m loyal to you,’ Chell said. ‘If you don’t want to go then we don’t.’
We didn’t. I had never even competed in London and it would have been bad for me professionally and personally. I was world champion and I wanted to walk my dog with Hannah and have friends round for dinner. It was all so unnecessary.
The performances remained good. In May 2010, I went back to Götzis, in Austria. I told the media that I was not bothered about what had happened there before, but of course I was. Everything reminded me of how my world had caved in two years earlier – the mountains, the physio room, the woman in heels in the town hall pointing out how small I was. However, I had no problems this time other than the black sky and thunderous rain. The top girls were there and Chernova really stuck at me, trimming my lead to 77 points going into the final event, but I responded and won the 800 metres.
There had been a lot of talk of me breaking Denise Lewis’s British record beforehand. It had stood at 6831 points since 2000. ‘People talk about Denise’s record but you can’t think beyond one event,’ I told a group of journalists. ‘Get that wrong and it messes up the whole thing and that’s when it’s hard. You take a few minutes for self-pity, have a little cry and then try to put it into perspective.’
When did I cry during a heptathlon, I was asked? ‘Osaka,’ I said immediately. ‘Close to tears, anyway. You work so hard to make everything right and then something goes wrong and you want to kick yourself and disappear.’ I thought about just how many tears I had shed, from Beijing to the boiler breaking down, and smiled.
The issue of doping came up again. I said I could not understand why anyone would do it. The reporter suggested money, fame or jealousy? ‘But is it worth the risk of people thinking you’re a disgrace, let alone the health issues?’ I said. ‘Anyway, my family would kill me.’
Then, with everything going smoothly, came another clobbering. The ankle problem I had at the start of the year was replaced by a major scare just before the European Championships in Barcelona. It started after a training session in Leeds. I felt a bit faint and just thought I was probably a bit dehydrated and so I sat down, drank something and felt okay to drive home. I trained the next day and thought nothing of it. I went home to get ready to go out for a friend’s birthday and then the whole room started to spin. It was frightening. I tried to stand up, but that made it worse, the room spun quicker and I felt sick. I couldn’t even move my head from one side to another. I wondered what was going on; I was panicking. I lay down on the bed and rang Andy.
‘Can you come home? There’s something’s wrong with me.’
The EIS doctor, Richard Higgins, came out and said it was probably a virus that was affecting my inner ear. He prescribed some tablets and said that my balance would improve. Sure enough it did for a few days, but then I had another attack and it was back to square one. You start to imagine the worst in situations like that, especially after I went back to Google. I read about people who had the same thing and could never drive again. Before long I was wondering if
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