In a post such as this I have found it best to get the elephant in the room out of the way first. Politically Quax and I had little in common. He was a bit too far right of centre for my left of centre leanings. Politically we disagreed on just about everything. That is not to say I didn’t like the guy. In fact, in the world of athletics, he was the most entertaining, intelligent and likeable company you could find.

Alison has known Quax since forever. They were brought up in the same town. They ran for the same athletic club. Quax went to the same school as Alison’s brother and for a short period Quax worked in the same insurance office as Alison’s father.

I didn’t meet Quax until 1977 shortly after he set the world record of 13:12.87 for the 5000 meters. He stayed for a couple of nights at our home in King’s Road, Windsor. Shortly after he arrived he said he would like to go for an easy run. Did I have any suggestions for a pleasant four or five mile circuit? Being as our house backed onto Windsor Great Park and was used by Alison every day in clocking through her 100 miles a week finding a five mile circuit was no problem at all.

Fully aware that I was talking to the new world record holder I said I would go with him and show him some of the sights of Windsor Great Park. We set off from the Ranger’s Gate and circled through the Village and past the Gamekeepers Lodge, home to some of the Queen’s corgis. Then down across The Dip and onto the Guards polo ground Smith’s Lawn. I was feeling good. Quax had started slowly although I was beginning to notice a slight acceleration as we crossed the green expanse of Smith’s Lawn.

As we dropped down to the path beside Virginia Water and began to climb Rhododendron Walk towards the Royal Lodge I became acutely aware of why Quax was the world record holder. The slight increases in speed meant I was now sprinting toward the top of the Long Walk. The world record holder was clipping along, barely breathing, chatting happily about the nice run we were having. Fortunately at the top of the Long Walk he stopped and said he would run down the Walk back to home while I, thankfully, would need to take the car.

It was a memorable run. Memorable because it was so much fun and memorable because for the first time I understood the performance gulf that separates world record holders from the rest of us. Quax wasn’t showing off. On the contrary he was being kind to his under-powered training partner. He was simply very, very good at this running business.

Later that evening we went to the House on the Bridge in Eton for dinner. That proved to be as memorable as the run. Quax is genuinely good company; interesting, funny and bright. Through dinner he kept us entertained with an endless stream of stories. I even remember that Quax and I had the same main course – rack of lamb with fondant potato, provençale vegetables and thyme jus.

Through the years our paths crossed many more times. He negotiated with promoters to get Alison entered in meets in Ireland and Poland. When he promoted the hugely successful New Zealand and Australia Track Series, on three occasions, Quax included an invitation and air fare for Alison. He didn’t make those arrangements as some form of charity. He was far too professional for that. But when he saw an athlete as committed as he was he would stop at nothing to give them the break, he felt, they deserved.

When Toni Jeffs was preparing for the Barcrlona Olympic Games we arranged a farewell party in Wellington. Quax came to compere the event. It was quite an occasion with both New Zealand television companies and Channel 7 from Australia sending cameras and reporters. Quax was brilliant. His status as a successful Olympian and his humour made for a memorable night. If only I’d done as good a job of Toni’s preparation.

That was the fun side of Quax. But there was also his athletic wisdom. I will always remember the caution he stressed in the weeks before a major event. Be very careful David, he said, when the press are looking for something to write, anything you say can be misinterpreted. It’s a mistake I made before Barcelona and have watched many others make since then. Quax’s own preparation was based on Lydiard distance principles. On many occasions I have called Quax to ask for his opinion on some training problem. It was always provided openly and freely – and he was always right.

So thank you Quax, Thank you for your help. Thank you for the memories and thank you for providing me with the first hint of what it meant to be a world record holder; one evening out the back of Windsor Great Park.