THE key moment in a Paralympic athlete’s journey may not be something that unfolds in Paris in the next two weeks.

Rather, it could have happened years before, when the athlete presented themselves to a panel of medical experts; for here, an athlete will have been allotted a category. Take cycling: there is a T1 category for those who have more significant impairments, be that about muscle power or co-ordination, and a T2 category for those who are deemed less impaired. It is often a tight judgement call: for those with cerebral palsy, for example, about the level of spasticity in one limb.

The potential for injustice is enormous; for the category in which one is placed is potentially medal-defining: Paralympic cyclists who are borderline cases could be placed at the “able” end of T1 (and therefore could win a medal), or the “less able” end of the T2 spectrum (and these people are thereby destined not only never to win a medal: they might not qualify for the Paralympics at all).

It is important not to deny the impact of categorisation for the Paralympics, but it is also important to place it in context; for sport is full of categorisation. A child may play in a tennis tournament for the age category of under-tens; or adults play for “veterans” teams in which you have to be over 35, or even over 50, to qualify. Last year, I was approached by the captain of a local “walking-football” team about playing for them, but then he remembered that I could not join until I was at least 60. “So, how old are you?” he asked. (I told him and he looked disappointed: if I am honest, I felt a bit put out even to have been considered, but he duly said that he would get back to me when the time came — which, to be clear, will not be until 2035.)

In other sports, weight categories are paramount; if you did not have weight categories in boxing or judo, there would be effectively the heavyweight division and nothing else. And women’s sport is almost entirely dependent on the existence of a sex category.

Once you both accept that categorisation is necessary, and also realise that the assessment is inevitably somewhat arbitrary, you are being true to reality, but also free to marvel at the achievements of participants. Even in suburban walking football, they may all have limited mobility, but they can still strike the ball sweetly.

And, with the Paralympics, we take on a new level: accept the category limitations, and then see competitors shatter our expectations of what the category implies. Paradoxically, the limitations set people free; and the result is glorious.

The Revd Robert Stanier is Vicar of St Andrew and St Mark, Surbiton, in the diocese of Southwark.