THE images from one transcendent August day in Tokyo in 1991 are forever ingrained in the history of Scotland’s sporting heritage. Liz McColgan, her skinny shoulders hunched, every step of the World Championship 10,000m final seemingly that of a child treading on hot coals, pushing herself to the limit and leaving the rest of the field far behind her, trailing in a different race.

Then, at the denouement of one of the most all-consuming performances ever dished up in the history of athletics, McColgan stood defiantly atop the medal podium, bearing a mixture of unfettered exultation, derision for those who had written off the Dundonian’s chances after she had given birth a mere seven months previously, and pride, all battling for supremacy in a single, indelible snapshot of clenched fists and dangerous smile.

Ever since that achievement – and this remarkable runner had won plenty of gongs before that and was no flash in Japan – I have admired McColgan’s refusal to take the easy route or to howl at the moon when life gets tough. Where other compatriots followed the herd, or fell under the influence of coaches, not all of whom were employing reputable or even legal methods, Liz blazed her own idiosyncratic trail. Few people would have climbed on to a treadmill on Christmas Day, as she did in 1990 as she transformed herself into one of the most formidable runners ever to wear a Scottish vest and, temperamentally, she was as fragile as a moose. But, perhaps more importantly, she never bothered to hide her anger at those who used drugs to boost their times, and McColgan remains one of the few people with the courage to suggest how the blight of the hormone monsters should be tackled.

As you might expect, she didn’t pull her punches. This whole Pandora’s Box has been re-opened recently, following allegations made against Mo Farah’s coach, Alberto Salazar, allied to the raking up of old innuendo about whether Allan Wells was squeaky-clean when he sprinted to glory at the 1980 Moscow Olympics. Yet while track and field’s administrators have generally reacted to the drugs malaise with a lack of vision worthy of Mr Magoo – a stance which has allowed countless cheats to prosper and let the sport’s reputation be dragged down into the gutter on a regular basis – McColgan has been unequivocal in her stance.

In her eyes, the offenders are not only driving a bus through the regulations, but are defrauding those who pay money to watch them. Thus, there shouldn’t be any procrastination on the issue or the notion of three strikes and you’re out. Otherwise, the suspicion will linger that the IAAF is more interested in flogging tickets than actively pursuing those who deploy banned substances.

AND there certainly isn’t any equivocation from the woman who is now Liz McColgan-Nuttall, and who was telling Farah to “wise up” and look carefully at the company he was keeping more than two months BEFORE the recent Panorama programme. After all – and oblivious to the fact that the English Olympic champion has so far not been found guilty of any transgression – he seemed happy enough to pose for pictures with American Justin Gatlin, who has failed not one but two drugs tests and served bans in both instances.

And if that’s bad enough by itself, Gatling ran 100m in 9.75 seconds at a Diamond League meeting last month and is tipped by some observers to beat Usain Bolt to the title at the World Championships in Beijing in August. What a testimony that would be for those who bend the rules to win tainted glory!

“I worked very, very, hard to get to where I did in the sport, and there were no easy short cuts along the road,” said McColgan. “I always say I wasn’t the most talented person when I was a youngster, but I just worked my socks off and eventually got my reward.

“When you do that, you want to be in a clean competition with your rivals, so my thoughts are that drugs cheats should be [thrown] out of the sport for life. Because when people cheat, it just makes everything that I have done feel meaningless.”

This statement lies at the heart of McColgan-Nuttall’s attitude towards the activity she has graced. Even now, after turning 50, she encourages young athletes, and remains one of the most driven personalities in her pursuit. But – and it’s a big but – what message is being sent to the next generation when people such as Gatlin are feted as heroes and gaining banner headlines without being properly called to account? The only way to address the problem is for the IAAF to test every athlete at every major event – which would be very expensive – and weed out the cancer at the heart of track and field. It might mean 20 or 30 marquee stars being banned for life and one could anticipate a subsequent flurry of litigation. But even if it takes two or three years of pain to transform the present situation, the alternative – that we meekly accept the status quo – is only going to lead to further abuses, allegations, acrimony and the slow drifting away of those of us who once loved athletics.

McColgan-Nuttall once said: “Throughout my life, I was always somebody who got up to start training at 5am and went to bed at 9pm. I didn’t go to discos or parties. It wasn’t part of my schedule.

“I think I must be the only person to win the BBC Sports Personality of the Year award and not go to the party afterwards, because I was training the next day.”

That’s the dedication which should be honoured and praised from the rooftops. Sadly, however, the IAAF hasn’t shown the same commitment to keeping athletics clean, which helps explain why it is in such a mess.