I was one of the 40,000 spectators in the Commonwealth Games stadium on the night Paula ran her 14.31. Without any hint of hyperbole, I don't think I will ever forget it.
The stadium was packed. The evening had already warmed up with Jonathan Edwards leaping a world-leading 17.86 to lead in the triple jump. This massive leap under pressure had been met with a huge roar, because Jonathan is one of the most-loved athletes in the UK. Not only was he aiming to join that select group who have held Olympic, World, European and Commonwealth golds at the same time, but he is such a genuinely nice, humble, ordinary, unassuming guy, that you just have to like him.
So he had primed the crowd but you could tell the large majority were there for Paula's 5,000m race. Even when she came on to the track to finish her warm-up with a few sharp 50m strides before getting called to the line, the crowd were roaring support.
For the first 400m (in 76) or so she just moved slowly to the front. But by 600m she edged into the lead and the race began. This is really the only tactic she has in her arsenal and the whole crowd knew it and so they just got right behind her.
Actually, the crowd got in front of her. Imagine a Mexican wave of noise that just circled the track some 20-30 metres ahead of Paula. A wall of sound, applause, yelling and footstamping that just kept a steady pace ahead of her, and then died off slightly as she passed only to wind back up again in volume as she came round again.
To the Kenyan Edith Masai's credit, she recognised quickly what was happening and she tucked in behind Radcliffe straight away. In contrast to Paula's awkward style, Masai looked dangerously smooth. At ease.
And that way they stayed as Paula rapidly kicked the pace up to steady 69s, head rockin' and rollin' and Masai just ominously and comfortably in second, a bare metre behind.
The race was unfolding like we have seen so many times with Paula. All heart and guts at the front with death stalking her ready to pounce in the last lap.
The roars from the throats of 40,000 believers never slackened, never doubted, but by the 6th lap, I was getting worried. I knew Paula's recent 3,000m had been run in an average 66.9 per lap, and here she was running 69 after 69 after 69. This was just on the limit of what was possible. I coach a young guy with 8.23/3k and 14.34/5k credentials, so I knew the pace she was hammering out was just about do-able, but was it going to work? Because still Masai tracked her without falter.
Front runners have to get away. That's it. The whole strategy in six words. If your opponent is with you with 200m to go, kiss the gold goodbye.
Now we all know this. You might think the ordinary Joe in the street is not too knowledgeable about the nuances of track tactics, but suddenly from a seemingly unbreakable one metre, the gap between Radcliffe and Masai increased by one FOOT and the roars of the crowd DOUBLED.
Galvanised, Paula just seemed to take off. As though somehow Masai had been holding her back and she was now free. One metre became two, then five and Radcliffe was gone. She worked HARDER. And the gap just continued to grow as Paula tirelessly, relentlessly wound the pace all the way up to the lower limit of superhuman and just kept it there. Lap after lap after lap. Without a suggestion of rising lactate, without a hint of doubt or stutter.
Lap after lap. And the commentator announced (yelled?) over the tannoy that if she could run a last lap in 64, she could break the world record...
And the sound level QUADRUPLED!!
I have never experienced such a wave of love and pure support for any athlete. When Paula crossed the line some 80-100m ahead of second-finisher Masai, it was like the fulfilment of the single wish of an entire nation. If an event could be said to be "willed", this was.
My partner and I were ecstatic and beyond hoarse. We both knew we had just witnessed something that was maybe indescribable (and these words don't even begin to tell what it was like). With my own eyes, I may never witness a greater athletic achievement.
And I swear the next day there was not a single Hall's Mentholyptus or throat lozenge to be found in the whole of Manchester.