wrote a small peice about Emma's sport, the "Skeleton".
was so incredibly proud of Emma.
Imagine this. You are at the top of mountain and
its cold. Really cold. In fact its so cold your bones feel like
they have been packed in ice. Temperature wise its minus twenty
but you don't
have anytime to think about a little thing like hypothermia. Not
when the only way is down.
There is 1.7 kilometres of track in front of you
and you have got to face it. Literally face it.
You know the pressure on your neck will be crushing
and you have deliberatly spent hours in the gym building the muscles
around the neck and shoulders to protect them from the intense G-forces
they have to endure when you slide.
You run as fast as you can in your spikes on a
slippery slick of ice for about twenty metres. If you stuff the
start you've stuffed the whole thing.
So you hear your name called by an announcer somehow,
because the blood in your head is pumping and pulsating like you
are standing in the front row of
a heavy metal concert.
You run on the spot, trying to get your body ready
for a race against the clock.
You have to be totally focused because one mistake
and it could be your life. Your life.
So you whack your helmet on and all you can see
is white. The whiteness is almost blinding, but you know its just
the path down. The path to glory.
You lug your 18 kilogram sled up to the start
line and your stomach feels like its going to fly out of your body
but its not nerves, its the adrenalin you require to do this sport.
You can't do it unless you are a little bit crazy. You need an adrenalin
rush like you need oxygen and you live to take risks.