“We Can’t All Be Champions, Can We”?
It’s a blustery, Autumnal afternoon when I call 81-year-old Ivor Wiggett on his landline at home in Enfield, North London. We met in June at Tracksmith’s Amateur Mile, where he was intermittently hoisting his starter pistol into the air and commencing each of the evenings 13 races. Pulled in Ivor’s direction by his clear enthusiasm for the sport, and for the camaraderie he had with both his peers and the runners taking part, a quiet confidence emanated from him in a way it could only from a seasoned participant.
“My relationship with running started in 1957”, he explains. “I was 13 and I got involved in the club the same year England won the World Cup. As time went on, I became what was known as the Track Secretary, but I quickly discovered that I wasn’t particularly good at it and so found someone else that would be a better fit. Afterall, I joined an athletic club to run. I was never going to aspire to county level – we can’t all be champions, can we? But that’s not to say I wasn’t serious; I ran! There was a point when I was up to 75 miles a week”.
Eventually though, in 2010, Ivor called time on his active running career. “My knees eventually gave up the ghost”, he tells me somewhat flippantly, as though he’s describing a pair of trainers that have had their day in the sun, rather than permanently closing the door on something he’d been consistently applying himself to for just over half a century. Perhaps his stoicism comes from his being so deeply embedded in the community that surrounds the pursuit, rather than just the pursuit itself. The end of his running career certainly didn’t mean the end of his career in running.
“I thought, ‘if I can’t be a runner anymore, I may as well be an official’. When it came to organising races, I also realised that if I became a starter it would mean that I didn’t have to spend my time running around trying to find someone else to do it”.
Ivor is damning himself with faint praise here, a byproduct of his blatant modesty that comes through whenever you ask him a direct question about himself. Indeed, we weren’t sure we were even going to get to chat to Ivor at all when we first started emailing him. “I’m more than happy to have a chinwag with your good self”, he told me, before quickly adding, “I’m not sure what about though”.
The answer is that it depends on where you want to start. Ivor’s schedule is a busy one, and it’s easy to begin feeling fatigued just listening to it.
Tuesday’s are spent at Epping Onger’s heritage railway, where he tends to the flower beds, keeps the outdoor furniture in pristine condition and has even restored an old London phone box. “I dealt with a firm in Leatherhead that produces the specific red paint as well as the glass panels”, he tells me with delight.
There’s also his heavy involvement in Enfield in Bloom between April and October. Organising the local garden competition in his borough in the summer months, Ivor judges the competition each year: “This year I’m judging Best Small Front Garden with my girlfriend and a few other locals”.
Alternatively, we could stick to running and hone in on the 54 track fixtures he has started this year alone. Pull back to when he first began in 2000 and he estimates he’s started at least 720 races to-date. It’s worth remembering that all of this time, effort and energy is volunteered and so we have to ask, why does he do it?
“It’s a medical fact that, in your later years, if you spend your days watching daytime TV and not really doing very much, you're destined for an early grave. Every day, I’ve got something to wake up for”. More than that though, he sounds – and, from our experience, looks – happy when he’s doing it.
“Oh, I love every minute of it and I particularly love putting my effort into the grassroots events. The elite level stuff doesn’t really speak to me – there’s too much politics up there and I don’t want to get involved in all of that. Further down is where they’re breeding the champions of tomorrow and I genuinely believe that some of the runners I’m seeing at track each week are contenders for LA 2028 and beyond”.
And has he ever come into contact with those hopefuls? “Well I did come across [British sprinter and Olympic bronze medal winner] Richard Kilty at a Lee Valley track meet. He’s been noted by some to be fairly abrasive, but he came up to me afterwards to say thank you and we got talking. Well, I thought he was the nicest bloke you could imagine!”.
And that’s what it seems to all boil down to with Ivor: people and their character, rather than their statistics. Medals and podiums are all well and good, but the stories and memories that float easiest to the front of his experienced mind involve the kind, appreciative and good-natured people he’s met along the way.
As if to prove my point, he begins telling us the story of another athlete he met in his race-related travels across London.
“About 5 years ago I was watching a woman running from Newbury, Berkshire. Her form and her running were fantastic and at the end of her race she was lying on the floor recovering. I felt compelled to walk over and congratulate her on an incredible run, and we got to chatting. It turned out that she was a junior doctor at the time and, at another meet, she recognised me and we got talking again. Today, we’re great friends and keep in close contact. She’s a fully qualified doctor now and, alongside being an incredible runner, I’ve no doubt she’s a wonderful doctor”.
“I don’t think very much has really. Athletes have always been athletes. Fundamentally, I think the sport is the same as it’s always been; runners want to turn up, enjoy themselves and win. ”
I look up at the clock for the first time since we started talking, conscious of Ivor’s packed calendar and looming responsibilities. An hour has already passed and there are still so many tangents still to explore; follow-up questions to be asked; topics completely uncovered. It’s my fault for thinking I could navigate a full, interesting and generous life in a paltry 60 minute chat.
I settle on something I’ve been keen to get a handle on since I first met Ivor at East London’s Community Track. Having been so integrally involved in track for over 50 years, to what extent does Ivor think things have changed? His answer is wonderfully – although unsurprisingly – refreshing.
“I don’t think very much has really. Athletes have always been athletes. Fundamentally, I think the sport is the same as it’s always been; runners want to turn up, enjoy themselves and win”.
He does concede that some of the details have had to succumb to modernisation. “The governing body is trying to phase out the old revolvers that can be used by gangsters to nefarious ends”. Webley and Smith & Wesson pistols are therefore being traded in for electronic pop guns. “They make a bang and a flash, so do the same job as far as I’m concerned – and save me from having to install a Home Office-approved alarm system at home”.
Ivor’s own views of running have also adapted over time. “I used to hate the 100m races, but now I love them! It’s one of the only races where they all lineup alongside each other, and the athletes are all incredibly focused. Nobody’s saying anything, but you get the impression that they’re all trying to psych one another out – you can honestly feel the tension”.
Emulating the track races Ivor is so familiar with, we finish back where we started, discussing whether he still considers himself a runner. “I certainly miss running, especially because so much of where I live is made up of parks and green spaces. If I clouds, I would get out of the house at 8 o’clock in the morning on a summer’s day and enjoy a nice run, before coming home for breakfast and a cup of coffee. That would be lovely. But doing what I do in its place makes me feel so appreciated, and it makes me feel young”.
Ivor is a valued member of London Heathside Athletics Club and can be found starting numerous track events across London – as well as officiating various road and cross country races in all weathers.