Twin Ambitions - My Autobiography by Mo Farah

buzzing. This was what it was all about. Alan came over to congratulate me.
    ‘You owe me an Arsenal kit,’ I said.
    That race was the start of a big rivalry between Malcolm and me. He was a phenomenal runner, and a great rival. Sometimes I’d beat him; sometimes he’d beat me. Despite this, we were really good mates and often competed against each other in the English Schools Championships. We’d go on to represent England together. Malcolm’s dad used to come along to the races. He’d drive Malcolm around in this comedy van. Whenever we raced, I’d take the mick out of Malcolm’s Geordie accent. He gave as good as he got, did Malcolm, calling us southern softies for wearing gloves in the winter and so on.
    In 1997, the year I won the cross country at Newark, I also competed at Chepstow for England and won the Home Countries International Cross Country title. Wearing that England kit was a special moment for me. I was filled with pride. I was starting to assert my ability on bigger stages now. Things were starting to happen for me. The following summer Alan drove me up to Sheffield for the English Schools Track & Field Championships held at the Don Valley Stadium – the championships I’d been forced to miss the previous year because of injury. I was scheduled to run in the 1500 metres. Alan felt that I lacked a bit of speed, and before the race he told me I’d do well to get a medal.
    ‘If the pace is silly, don’t go with it,’ he said. ‘It’ll be too quick. You know how to run a good 1500 race, Mo. Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing out there. Run your own race.’
    I don’t know why, but I had this feeling that I could hold my own out there against the other kids. As a runner, you have to believe in yourself. Sure, there’s a fine line between self-belief and arrogance, but no one who didn’t believe in themself ever won a gold medal in athletics. You see it time and again on the circuit: someone posting crazy fast times in training, but when it comes to a big competition, for whatever reason, they fail to make the podium. I had this absolute belief in what I was capable of. The way I saw it, I already had the English Schools Cross Country title and the Home Countries title in the bag. I had nothing to lose at the Track & Field Championships. I went out there ready to give it my best shot.
    Malcolm was competing in the same race. As ever, we were both desperate to finish above the other. At the start, Malcolm took off like a bullet. BOOM! In next to no time he’d established a huge lead over me – 50 metres, easily. Maybe more. He was going for it, big time. With 500 metres to go, Malcolm was pushing hard and still out in front. In the corner of my eye I saw Alan screaming at me from the sidelines, yelling for me to pick up the pace. All right, then. I started winding up. With just over a hundred metres left, I pulled level with Malcolm. Now we both went for the sprint finish. It was a question of who had more strength left in their legs, who could kick on harder. Who could dig deeper. We were both going flat out, giving it absolutely everything. I could feel the muscles in my legs burning.
    Suddenly, Malcolm was out of sight. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder and saw him trailing behind me. I had that little bit more in the tank than he did on the home straight. I made it across the line for a time of 4.06.41. Malcolm had run me very, very close, but I felt sheer joy at winning a third title in a row. That year, I was the only athlete from Middlesex to win a gold medal at the English Schools Track & Field Championships.
    I first met Tania in 1997 when she was eleven and I was fourteen. New kids from school who had athletic talent were always coming along to Feltham Arena, and Tania was one of the faces I started seeing regularly both in school and at the club. I already knew her well by the time she started running for Hounslow, since we’d hung out at school and we both knew