What it takes to join ranks of sporting elite

'If you tick 'yes' to three or more boxes, then you need a consultation before you can take part'.

So went the gist to a questionnaire prior to us being put through our paces by Olympics great Michael Johnson.

Unfortunately, there is family history of heart attacks and strokes, and yes, I suffered mild asthma as a Sunday League footballer some decade-and-a-half ago.

So not the best start to the day.

My confidence somewhat dented, I nevertheless signed my life away and joined the dozen or so fellow media in eagerly pulling on our blue or black Michael Johnson Perform T-shirts in preparation for a fitness session with the American great at St. George's Park football centre at Burton.

We were soon dispatched to test out some of the state-of-the-art equipment used by England's teams and other elite athletes.

First up was a watching brief to see a group of footballers, including Walsall's Ben Purkiss and Ipswich's former Wolves striker Frank Nouble, being put through their paces on one of the pitches.

A friendly American coach named Lance was barking out various instructions aimed at improving acceleration and technique over short bursts, all gradually increasing in intensity after a strenuous warm-up.

"Ninety-eight per cent of the time in games is spent without the ball," came the cry.

We returned to the main building and were shown into the laboratory and split into groups of four for various tests to look at our flexibility and strength. The various machines and white walls gave a feeling of being guinea pigs or rats being assessed in experiments.

First we had to perform asymmetric exercises – separately working the right and left sides of our bodies to you and me – to gauge the deficiencies on each part. Lifting a dowel bar from a squat position above our heads and back again, it was clear several of us had all the flexibility of concrete in our ankles.

But a simple small ramp moved into place behind our feet showed how much lower we could go. The idea of these tests is to identify and correct any deficiencies via specific exercises targeting the weaker areas.

In my case, the raising of my right leg as high as it would go while the left one was flat and me lying on my back exposed a further deficiency – a tightness in my left hip, something that was particularly aggravated when I completed my first marathon 14 months ago.

A test to assess core strength – trying to raise our right arms and right legs together while in a plank position–- had us all collapsing after a couple of attempts.

Then it was on to jumping where, amazingly, the coach told us he could accurately predict how fast we could run 50 metres simply by how high we could jump vertically, with our legs shoulder width apart from a squat start, keeping them straight.

Standing between two yellow strips on the floor from which lasers pinpointed the height of our jumps, I leapt for my life. It felt good, but the results weren't.

My modest jump of 25.3cm seemed about average alongside my fellow guinea pigs, but the sobering thought was that elite athletes manage between 50cm and 60cm.

Laboratory done, it was off to the indoor dome and the artificial football pitch.

We were joined by two Michael Johnsons – the global phenomenon of an athlete and the former Birmingham City defender – as coaches took turns putting is through a full warm-up then a series of explosive drills aimed at improving technique and acceleration.

Everything was done over a distance of no more than 20 metres with subtle pointers aimed at gaining an advantage.

From skipping to jumps to backwards zig-zag stepping then onto running between the ladder rungs before a session of full-length forward jumps from squatting, we gradually worked our way to a full sprint, all under the keen, focused glare of Johnson the athlete.

When it came to that final sprint, he calmly warned us: "I know the pressure is on, there are cameras around and you don't want to be beaten by your colleagues. But don't forget all you have learned and go back to how you used to run. Use the techniques and they will work."

It felt odd breaking into what was virtually a full sprint, but with the snap-snap-snap striding we had been taught. Ex-Blues man 'Johnno' was several strides ahead of me as I galloped in.

Given the bursts were short and geared to technique rather than flogging yourself to exhaustion, it wasn't overly taxing.

But my calves in particular knew they'd had a strenuous workout. The most exhausting part of the day over, it was time to get wet.

After a quick look in at the recovery lab, where player wear canvas-covered oxygen chambers on their legs for 20 minutes to aid recovery, it was off to the hydrotherapy area to recover.

First we entered the viro-pool, a swimming pool of variable depth from 1.2m to 1.8m depending on the heights of those who used it – Great Britain's basketballers had the floor lowered to 1.8m – where we did various leg exercises in the water.

Then we had to get brave as we endured the cold and hot treatments. We were told to walk through the near-freezing, chest-highbath of cold water – temperatures of 10-12 degrees C – for two minutes before relaxing in the warm bubbles of 38 degrees C.

It was then I noticed how long my legs took to warm up before we were forced to go through the process again, this time dipping our shoulders into the iciness, too, courtesy of 10 squats!

But maybe we were spared. We were told elite athletes do the process five times, while England players spend a full 10 minutes in the cold.

Finally, it was off to the warmth of the showers as we wound up for the day. Refreshed, I at least felt refreshed. Like an elite athlete.

Well, not quite.