Ow II, Return of the Booboo

You'll have to excuse my lack of postings over the past 2 weeks. As you can imagine, I've been extremely busy at the Games. I'll try do a few posts to cover events leading up to the present.

I'll pick up where I left off, training in Altenberg. My secret weapon worked out quite well. The track was super fast, exactly as I had planned, and sharpened me up nicely. By the time I got to the Torino track it wasn't very intimidating at all. In fact by the end of official training I was starting to really enjoy the track. It became more of a challenge than an ordeal. But I'm getting ahead of myself, so much to tell.

After training in Altenberg, Chris and I drove down to St Moritz for some last training runs. On the way we stopped off in Munich to change our car for a big BMW X5 jeep. Clifton had some concerns about us having enough space for all our sleds and not being able to get to the competition venue in the event of heavy snow so X5 is was. Very big and comfy with a big engine to match. It also looks pretty flash, so we didn't feel like scruffy scumbags driving around St Moritz. Ironically it doesn't have much boot space but it was so comfy we weren't gonna complain.

Training was going pretty well in St Moritz just when fate decided to step in. On the last training run of the last day of training disaster struck. The skies clouded over, animals fled the area, quakes rumbled the land, statues wept blood and I stepped in too close to my sled whilst loading onto it. I hit the small metal bumper on the rear of my sled and split my heel wide open through the back of my shoe.
Twenty minutes later I was in Klinik Gut being examined by some very clean and efficient looking swiss doctors. I was extremely fortunate not to have hit the achilles tendon, that would have put me out of any sport for the next 18 months. As it was I got 4 stitches in the heel. It was stiff and sore but I had to hope that it would heal somewhat in time for my Olympic competition ten days away.

I think we all knew it was going to get worse before it got better. Upon arrival in the athlete's village in Torino I went straight to the Poly-clinic to get it checked. All seemed ok, I'd burst one of the stitches but nothing too serious. I knew there was some serious swelling on the way so I asked for some anti-inflammatories and was given panadol. Um, thanks, panadol. World reknowned for it's healing properties...of headaches. My italian was good enough to say ciao bella and his english was good enough to ask me for an Ireland pin so that's as far as that treatment went. We did the Welcoming Ceremony (more on ceremonies later) and headed up to the athlete's village in Sestriere, my home to be for the next couple of weeks.

Those who watched the opening ceremony may have seen me walking like a normal Olympic athlete but I can assure you I was strapped up and running on pain-killers and national pride. The following morning I couldn't even see where my ankle was amidst all the swelling and walking was impossible. Fortunately for my Olympic endeavour we had been assigned assistants, one of whom took me back to the poly-clinic in Sestriere. A combination of her translating skills and extreme boredom on the part of the staff there got me a completely different reaction to the one down in Torino. I spent three hours in the clinic being treated by no less than 14 doctors, got an MRI scan, all manner of electro-magnetic physio treatment, a prescription for antibiotics and some serious anti-inflammatories. That picture above is part of the scan on my foot. The light area to the right is the fluid and swelling on the inside of my right ankle. Not pleasant at all.

Over the next week or so I basically spent all my time between my room, the dining hall, the skeleton track and the poly-clinic. It is a credit to the body's power of healing and the good work of the physiotherapists that my ankle began to heal rapidly. It wouldn't be 100% in time but it would be workable.

Back to the Grindstone

Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame, I've just finished enjoying mine.
After qualifying for the games it appears that everyone is suddenly interested in me.
I came home for a few days last week, killing several birds with one stone.

The main reason was to take a couple of days off sliding to see my family so I wouldn't be all burnt out going into the olympics. It takes it's toll on you and as any good athlete will tell you, recovery is an important part of training.

The second reason was to do some athletics training to sharpen up a little. It was nice to do a session on the track again after so many months away. It's practically impossible to do proper speed training while away, there are very few good gyms to be found, and even fewer athletics tracks.
The club I train with is called DSD and it has played a very large part in my qualifying success. When I'm not doing skeleton I'm can ususally be found training with some excellent athletes, namely Dave, Andy, Lorcan, Ross, Avril and Zeta (Hi guys) and being coached by Jim and Lucy.

The third reason was to collect the Olympic gear that I have to wear for the Games. Some sharp negotiator managed to get Columbia to give us stuff to wear in the Olympics. That must have been really hard work. They may even have had to hand over a few first born children. Wow. Can you imagine how hard it must have been to convince them of the benefits of people wearing columbia gear on a sporting event watched by billions? Can you tell I'm being sarcastic?
I can't help but feel a little resentful that we only get the gear once we've qualified. I've already spent hundreds on my own gear, where were they when I needed them? I don't particularly like fair weather friends. To top it off, I suspect that the Columbia gear isn't as warm as the generic stuff I already use. All the labels talk about is breathability and waterproofness. Erm, yes that's all very well but it's the Winter Olympics, not the Water Olympics. Oh well.

The fourth reason was to take care of all the media attention that had sprouted up overnight, kind of like mushrooms. A few radio interviews, some tv stuff and a few newspaper interviews seemed to cover everything. I've been told that I come across quite well, which is a surprise since I consider myself to be a bit of a mumbler. Anyway, the masses have been informed of my presence.

On saturday, the limelight was switched off and it was back to the grind-stone. I travelled out to St Moritz to resume training and took part in a small local competition on Sunday morning. My mojo still seems to be in place and mojofying correctly, I came 2nd in the competition amongst a load of people competing on their home track.

I originally intended to stay in St Moritz and train there until just before the Games start. I really, really, really love the St Moritz track, in a platonic sense. It's fast, it's smooth, it's exhilarating, it's beautiful. It's like a giant highway of a track, big sweeping corners, wide straights with loads of room to correct before you go into a corner. You get big speeds on this track, I hit 130kph on monday. The only problem is that the track is too easy, and I don't want to get lazy going in the Olympics.

That's when I decided to use my secret weapon. Altenberg. That fast, mean track up in northern Germany. The ice is really built up on it at the moment, making it particularly fast and mean. Chris (my new coach for the Games) and I travelled up to Altenberg on monday. I got 6 runs down it yesterday and even the messy runs were super quick. After St Moritz it seemed like every corner was coming at me too damn fast. It was almost like my first time down on a sled. But I got used to it and therein lies the true power of my secret weapon.

All tracks are fast, usually getting you well up over 100kph, but some seem faster than others. While St Moritz gets you up to 130kph, it doesn't really feel like it because the track is so smooth, the corners are so big and you don't have to do much steering. In altenberg you only get up to about 110kph but it seems like a hell of a lot more because the corners are sharper, closer together and you've got to work them pretty damn hard lest they toss you like a rabid dog. What's really interesting is when you go from a difficult track to an easier track. The easy track seems even easier. Your reflexes, used to being pushed to their limits, now feel like they have an eternity to ponder the corner you're in. Hopefully when I get to Torino, it'll seem like the proverbial walk in the park ... at 120kph.

The plan at the moment is to head down to Torino on Thursday morning, get settled into the athletes village, then walk the walk in the Opening Ceremony on Friday night. On impulse I bought a load of little stuffed leprechauns in the airport on the way over. Despite my best efforts they wouldn't tell me where they keep their crocks of gold so I'm going to resort to throwing them to people as I walk around the stadium, maybe they'll have better luck.