Matt Majendie speaks to the world indoor silver medallist about being able to forge a new path in the long jump, despite being the daughter of two well-known athletes.

Larissa Iapichino initially did everything in her power to avoid going down the path she has taken. Growing up, she was the quintessential reluctant long jumper. The daughter of two athletes – her mother Fiona May was a two-time long jump world champion and father Gianni a national record-holder at the pole vault – she was determined to navigate her own, alternative sporting journey.

It began with gymnastics, which came to a premature halt when she grew too tall, as well as being demonised by her fear of the beam. She pondered volleyball, tennis and then. eventually, athletics.

“I remember thinking: ‘I don’t want to be too serious about it, I’m not my mum, I’m not my dad’,” says the 23-year-old Italian. “But, the thing is, I went for the first hour-and-a-half and I fell in love with the sport. It started with the hurdles as I still wanted something different to jumping.”

The problem was that she had a natural aptitude for leaping feet first into the long jump pit, despite her initial reluctance and that of her mother. She recalls: “My mum was desperate: ‘Please keep with the hurdles or middle distance but not the long jump’. I was like: ‘Mum, I’m good at this, the results speak for themselves’.

“Okay, maybe I have a little more pressure because my parents were who they were but it was just a destiny already written by someone else. And I said: ‘Who cares if people want to put pressure on me? Just let them and I’ll do my own thing’.”

It perhaps seemed inevitable that both her genetics and being named after a long jumper, Larisa Berezhnaya, a contemporary of her mother’s, meant she would eventually land on the long jump runway. Whatever the pathway, it has paid off to good effect as a European Indoor champion, European silver medallist and having placed agonisingly fourth at the last Olympic Games in Paris. A first ever global medal is also now in her grasp thanks to the 6.87m leap that brought silver at the World Indoor Championships last month.

May, a British-born athlete who switched allegiance to Italy and won world titles in 1995 and 2001 along with two Olympic silver medals, remains the inspiration but her daughter has successfully created her own identity.

“She did amazing things and I never felt like a weight on my shoulders being my mum’s daughter,” says Iapichino. “I am me and she is her. I’m doing, and she did, athletics in two different eras. We cannot compare much. I have my qualities and she has hers. I have my own path to do and follow. Sometimes I look at videos of her and go ‘wow’ but that’s inspiring, not something negative.”

Another link is their coach. Gianni, Larissa’s father, coaches her as he did Fiona May, the couple going on to marry before divorcing in 2011. Being coach and athlete, as well as father and daughter, has its challenges but they laugh at the sometimes rollercoaster nature of it.

“We have very strong personalities but I also have a little touch of my mother so it’s not that easy,” says Larissa, laughing and looking across to her smiling father. “We manage to put our private relationship – father and daughter – aside when we’re at the track.”

Unlike the likes of World Athletics president Seb Coe, who called his dad Peter when he was coaching him, she sticks to ‘dad’ at the track. “I think what we have is very special,” she adds.

Dad briefly butts in to explain a bit about the Iapichino family characteristic being a feisty, combative one which can raise eyebrows to those witnessing it. “It’s like the relationship that I had with my father,” he explains. “We had terrible fights and still do, and it looks terrible but in an hour it’s gone without needing to explain things to each other. Our relationship is a bit the same. Sometimes we have to get mad with each other but it ends there.”

Having witnessed both at the height of their careers, how do mum and daughter compare as athletes? “They’re very different,” he starts diplomatically. “As Larissa said, it’s completely different eras. She has a physiotherapist, osteopath, a nutritionist, back then we just had water and food, no amino acids, protein or anything like that.

“Fiona was very tough mentally. She never complained once, even if maybe she thought it! With Larissa there’s more feedback and that’s a good thing.” Larissa chimes in, “I’m very opinionated,” to which dad responds warmly, “She sometimes comes out with things that are very useful and, anyway, I’m not a dictator.”

There have been tough moments together, most recently the World Championships in Tokyo last year where Larissa had arrived in the form of her life, jumping in excess of seven metres, but then failed to qualify for the final. The rebuild has not been easy, although she bounced back with a best ever season-opener of 6.93m on her comeback before that medal hunt in Toruń.

“It takes time to think about what happened and you need to take that time,” she says of the aftermath of Japan. “You need to rest a little bit, reset your mind, go back on the track and work harder.”

One big change has been the removal of a sports psychologist, the aim being to give her more ownership in dealing with the tough moments mentally in competition when they arise.

Dissecting Tokyo, her dad says: “Why were there sometimes these blackouts? They weren’t physical. She was in a heck of a shape in the days before Tokyo – she’s probably never been so strong in her life. So we had to point out the real things that weren’t going right, trying to work on her mindset, letting her try to get out of the difficult situations and try to find a way out. This will help her rather than someone telling her how to coach her mind. Instead, she found herself in a difficult situation and couldn’t go back to normal business.”

Heading towards the outdoor season, both have big ambitions and beyond in their fifth season as coach-athlete.
Larissa speaks of the fact that: “I haven’t felt the jump. I strongly believe that every jumper in a career has the jump where you feel that it’s long, that you’re flying, that everything just got together perfectly. I haven’t felt that. I’m just working hard trying to find my perfect jump.”

She has just ended her winter exams in what is the fifth year of her part-time legal career. It involves an organised balancing act and she likes having the two pursuits. The eventual aim is to navigate a career in sports law but, first, will come the pursuit of perfection.