In the depth of Canberra’s winter, Jaryd Clifford kicks the frost off the grass with drills more resemblant of a park footballer than a world record holder. The fundamentals are monotonous, but he has learned that a stunning facade means little on shaky foundations.
Unlike the Leaning Tower of Pisa, which of course was once just the Tower of Pisa, Clifford doesn’t want to become an attraction for the wrong reasons. He wants to stop leaning. Needs to stop leaning.
By now his garden is full of tourists, athletics fans, who have romanticised his lean. They say it makes him human, more relatable, but every comment feels like a photo celebrating a flaw that he was never meant to have.
The Leaning Tower of Clifford is no longer leaning, because there is no tower. Just Clifford remains and when he picks up the phone to recall the demolition job, you can hear the relief in his voice.
The Paralympic star is no longer talking maintenance; he is talking construction. There are no more holes to patch or leaks to fix, just a concrete slab and the blueprint of something new.
“We’re basically changing everything,” Clifford says.
“I feel like I have been in the fight of my life trying to save my career in the last 12 months, and for the first time, I’m starting to believe that we are winning that fight.”
Clifford talks through his plans like an architect rather than a salesman. He knows that the cheap and easy option is unlikely to last until the 2028 Paralympic Games in Los Angeles, let alone beyond.
How? He’s bought it before.
“Laying in a scanner for the millionth time feels like rock bottom, until the doctor tells you the news and then it’s even worse,” Clifford says.
“How many times can you tell the same story? In a narrative arc, it’s fine to have your down moments. But it stops being a good story if you never come back up.”
As we speak, the world record holder is days away from his ninth return to running after a bone stress injury – his ninth life.
Another one would just about crush him, but being crushed is more appealing than quitting.
“One of the options they gave me was to turn me into a really resilient, elite park runner – so not really an option,” Clifford says.
In his darkest hour, an unlikely hero emerged. Fellow vision-impaired runner William Short headed to Clifford’s Canberra base for a training camp.
“He came up for a few weeks when I was really struggling a lot, and he was just bouncing off the walls,” Clifford says.
“He reminded me of when I was a kid, I was such a frother and loved the sport. He was just stoked to beat me in training, but he will probably never realise how much he did for me in those two weeks.”
Clifford has also been inspired by training partner Angus Hincksman, for different reasons.
“Seeing Gussy smashing it is super motivating,” Clifford says.
“Mainly because he could be the one who takes Para distance running to the next level, but also because he talks a lot of shit and I want to beat him.”
On paper, you might wonder why Clifford is so down. The world record holder is a two-time world champion and eight-time global medallist at 27-years-old, but Paralympic gold still eludes him.
What stings even more is that he has rarely arrived at major championships healthy – handing his rivals a headstart before the gun is even fired.
“I’m sick of using injury as an excuse, because preparation is part of the performance,” Clifford says.
“It was only 18 months ago I was in Nice running the world record which felt like the top of the mountain, and then everything came crashing down.”
The sample size of his injuries indicates more than bad luck. Clifford details periods of high stress, race scheduling, energy availability and shoe selection as the main culprits, but lays no blame.
At the Australian Institute of Sport, he is working with Coach Philo Saunders, Physio Jennifer Cooke, Doctor Richard Saw, Strength and Conditioning Coach Andrew Heffernan and Dietician Aimee Morabito – the construction team tasked with rebuilding The Tower of Clifford.
“It’s taken a year for the whole team to confront the fact that something big needs to change,” Clifford says.
“Saving my career doesn’t mean taking part. We will definitely be going for the gold medal.
“I fully believe that this plan will work and deliver me to LA in 2028 in the best shape of my life.”
The plan involves training more, but less. More cross training, less running. His weekly 70-80km will be supplemented by hours on the elliptical to reach his usual volume of 120-140km, and agility drills that remind him of a park footballer’s warm up.
For Clifford, it’s a calm reality.
“Maybe in the past we have devised plans that deep down I knew weren’t working, but this is one that we are all on the same page with. That’s the biggest relief,” Clifford says.
“It doesn’t feel like we chasing our tails anymore, which has been refreshing.”
With him every step of the way will be training partner Michael Roeger, who like Clifford has conquered just about everything except for Paralympic gold – a feat they will chase together at Los Angeles 2028.
“Roegs got me into the Paralympic movement growing up. He has overcome so much adversity in his career and he is still going and chasing the ultimate dream,” Clifford says.
“I guess when everything is changing, it’s nice to have some things that don’t.”
By Lachlan Moorhouse, Australian Athletics
Posted 6/10/2026
