Peter May - The Runner

Margaret said, ‘Not necessarily noticeable in a weightlifter, who has already distorted his body by building muscles beyond their natural shape and size. But if he was taking it long enough it could also distort the growth of bone and internal organs.’

‘Which, of course, would be preferable to taking steroids which would only shrink your testicles and give you acne,’ Li said.

‘Oh, worse than that,’ Cai said ignoring Li’s sarcasm. ‘Steroids can damage your liver and your kidney. They can change your blood cholesterol and increase the risk of heart disease and stroke. Oddly some men even grow breasts. And that’s not to mention the psychological effects. Paranoia, psychosis, or roid rage as the Americans call it.’

‘And that’s just the men,’ Margaret said. ‘Women get hairy, it screws up their menstrual cycle, and gives them deep voices.’

Li listened with growing disbelief. It seemed inconceivable to him that people would voluntarily submit themselves to such horrors. ‘So what else do they take?’

‘EPO,’ Cai said. ‘Erythropoietin. And its new, improved version, Darbepoetin. It’s a naturally occurring hormone produced in the kidney. It promotes the production of red blood cells, so more oxygen gets carried to the muscle, increasing the stamina of the athlete. Used by distance runners and cyclists.’ He gazed out as a Chinese pole-vaulter cleared five meters seventy-two, and the crowd roared its approval. ‘When a genetically engineered version of EPO became available in the late eighties its use became virtually endemic among cyclists.’ He turned and looked at Li. ‘Between nineteen eighty-seven and nineteen ninety, nearly twenty cyclists died mysteriously in their sleep.’

‘I read about that,’ Margaret said. ‘They all died from heart failure. Increase the number of red blood cells and you increase the viscosity of the blood. It gets thicker, reduces the speed of the blood flow, and when the athlete is sleeping and his heart rate falls, the blood gets so thick it just stops. And so does the heart.’

Li swore softly.

‘Of course, they got around that,’ Cai said, ‘by diluting their own blood with a saline drip and monitoring their heart rate while sleeping. It used to be undetectable, which is why they all loved it. But now there is a very efficient test which can detect synthetic EPO, differentiating it from the endogenous hormone.’

‘And what about blood doping?’ Margaret asked.

Cai nodded. ‘It happens.’

‘What is that?’ Li asked.

Margaret said, ‘The athlete draws off some of his own blood and stores it in a frozen state. He trains in his depleted blood condition, prompting his body to replenish its blood supply, then re-injects himself with his own blood just before competition, again increasing the red blood cell count. Of course, he’s just as likely to infect himself with something nasty, and if he uses blood products other than his own, risks allergic reaction, kidney damage, fever, jaundice, even AIDS or hepatitis.’

‘There are plenty of other drugs,’ Cai said. ‘Diuretics for losing weight, or flushing other substances out of your system. Amphetamines to give you a competitive edge, increase alertness, fight off fatigue if you’re a team sport player. Beta blockers to steady your hand if you’re a shooter or an archer. Narcotics to mask the pain of an injury.’

Li shook his head. ‘We live in a sick world,’ he said.

Cai shrugged. ‘It’s human nature, Section Chief. Just like today, victory in the ancient Olympic Games in Greece brought rich rewards. Money, food, housing, tax exemptions, release from army service. So the athletes started taking performance enhancing substances — mushrooms, plant extracts. Ultimately drug use was one of the main reasons the ancient games were abandoned. So, you see, nothing has really changed in the last two thousand years.’

‘That’s hardly a justification for not cracking down on it now,’ Li said.

‘Of course not,’ Cai responded. He glanced at Margaret as if he felt the need to underline his point. ‘Which is why supplying banned drugs to athletes was made a criminal offence in China in 1995. Unlike the United States where most of them can be bought freely on the Internet.’

‘Why don’t we keep our point-scoring to the track and field?’ Li said pointedly.

Cai glared at Li. ‘I really cannot spare any more time, Section Chief. Are you finished, do you think?’

A collective sigh washed across the stadium beyond the glass. The Chinese pole-vaulter had finally brought the bar crashing down with him.

‘For the moment,’ Li said.

They took their seats high up in the main stand with a superb view of the track below and the layout of the field events within it. A giant television screen kept them apprised of what was happening, and a constantly changing scoreboard flashed digital figures in red, green and yellow. Lengths jumped, heights gained, distances thrown; the current standings in every ongoing event; the points totals to date. Every seat was taken, and the stadium was filled with the buzz of anticipation, and the monotonous voice of the female announcer whose relentless, high-pitched, nasal commentary penetrated the very soul.

Around them, People’s Liberation Army officers in green uniforms sat together joking and snacking and drinking beer. Li had obviously been given tickets in a section set aside for ‘guests.’ The fact that he was accompanied by a non-Chinese had drawn some curious looks.

A giant of an American with blond hair tied back in a pony-tail threw his shot-put more than twenty-three meters sixty, taking the lead in the competition, to a groan of disappointment from the crowd and a sprinkling of polite applause. The Americans had already won the pole-vault.

‘I don’t understand,’ Li said to Margaret, ‘why an athlete would risk so much just so they can stand on the winner’s podium. I mean, it’s not just the risk of being caught and branded a cheat. Humiliation’s bad enough. It’s what they’re doing to their bodies. The side-effects of those drugs are horrific. They must be out of their minds!’

‘Well, I’m sure psychology is the biggest part of it,’ Margaret said. ‘The pressure to win must be enormous. And it’s not just the expectations of your family and friends, is it? Or your state. It’s your country. Millions of people who live their lives vicariously through you. Your victory is their victory. You win for China, or for America, you win for them. So when you lose…’ She left the consequences of that hanging. ‘And then, of course, there are the rewards. Big prize money, millions in sponsorship.’

Li thought about the apartments he had visited earlier that day.

‘And then there’s the fame and the glory. One minute you’re nobody, the next you’re a star. Everybody wants to be your friend. Your picture’s in all the papers, you’re being interviewed on TV.’ She shrugged. ‘I can see how weak people could be seduced.’ She thought about it for a moment. ‘And then there’s national prestige. Just look at the lengths East Germany went to so that their athletes would bring home gold medals.’

Li shook his head. He knew nothing about East German athletes. ‘I’ve never really followed sports, Margaret.’

‘Sport?’ She laughed. But it was a laugh without humour, full of contempt. ‘It was never about sport, Li Yan. The East German state seemed to think that if their athletes brought home more gold medals than anyone else, it would somehow endorse a whole political system, prove to the rest of the world that their corrupt and repressive regime was actually working. So they took their most promising young athletes away from their parents, many of them still children, and systematically pumped them full of drugs.’