Powell's Splendid Racing.

Once again the Basin Reserve. This time it is an Englishman who supplied the thrill. Jack Powell, finalist in the 800 metres at the Olympic Games at Los Angeles in 1932, is competing in a race of 1,000 yards.

The meeting had been postponed once because of rain and when it was decided that a “twilight” meeting should be held, a large crowd of Wellingtonians were eager for good racing.

Powell ran a remarkable race that evening. He gave a practical demonstration of a man running against time.

Somehow or other there seems to be a mysterious influence about the fountain at the Basin Reserve. There seems to be something which causes athletes to burst into a sustained sprint once they get to it in the last lap of a race!

More races have been lost than won by this premature sprint, but when Powell, carrying his arms high up on his chest, slipped into top gear, he thrilled the spectators with as fine a demonstration of sprinting as had ever been given by any sprinter—and Powell was a middle-distance man!

At Princeton (U.S.A.), they have a huge clock which enables spectators and athletes to see the time being taken to complete a race, but Powell did not have any such form of assistance. The only indication he had that he was within striking distance of the record was the cheering and encouragement being called out by the spectators. Two hundred yards to go—well ahead of the field—the solitary Englishman battled along in the chilly air. He turned into the straight—a straight with a distinct rise—and, gathering all his resources, swept on to the finish. He breasted the tape and a hurried consultation of time-keepers elicited the information that the record had been equalled.

It is idle to question what might have happened to the record had conditions been at all favourable. Perhaps it was the unfavourable conditions that helped to make Powell's run another memorable thrill, a thrill which might have been reduced had conditions favoured the athlete.