Sportsbeat reporter makes bob skeleton debut

IT seems fair considering our affinity with tea that the winter sport Great Britain excel at is bob skeleton - or hurtling yourself down the ice on a tea tray.

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Since skeleton was re-introduced to the Olympic programme in 2002, Great Britain have captured two medals, Alex Coomber's bronze in Salt Lake City and Shelley Rudman's silver four years later - our only medal in Turin.

Skeleton is run on the same track as the bobsleigh, taking in around 15 turns on a course approximately 1500m long and at speeds of up to 150km/h.

While the bobsled is contested by two or four man teams, skeleton, like luge, is a solo sport - one man against the ice.

But unlike luge, it's head first on the skeleton - chin inches from the white stuff.

Surely there's a problem, I hear you cry? No ice in Great Britain! And mountains Sir Ranulph Fiennes would eat for breakfast.

And its true - Great Britain have taken skeleton by storm despite having no track to speak of, while our continental cousins and friends across the pond have no shortage of challenging courses.

But there is a solution - the push-track start at the University of Bath, where Team GB spend their time when not competing abroad.

The facility was built prior to the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics and sought to replicate the start of the track in Utah - a short sprint before an opening gradient of approximately 12 per cent.

Ice is replaced by tarmac and blades on the skeleton replaced by wheels which slot into the short track.

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And so, with Team GB set to embark on an eight-leg World Cup series before heading to Vancouver in February, I went to find out what it's all about. 

My first impression? It looked decidedly tame - the short track on a balmy autumn afternoon did not fill me with the terror I can imagine is felt at the top of the legendary Cresta Run, where the sport was born in the late 19th Century.

But when I was asked to sign a disclaimer and attend a safety breathing, I thought there might be more to this than there looked - particularly as I was hardly dressed to throw myself down a track.

READY FOR ACTION: Here's me - Sportsbeat's very own version of The Stig - ready for my debut skeleton run

"Keep your legs and chin up or you will catch them on the bungee which slows you down at the end," said Dan, who was running me through the essentials.

"Don't worry, my chin will be touching the sky," I thought.

With that, I was given a helmet and told to lie on the skeleton. I was to be pushed off - not like the pros who fire out of the blocks.

And as Dan sprinted down the track and let go of me at the top of the hill, I started to realise what all this was about. Nothing keeping you on the sled except white knuckles.

30km/h felt double that with my chin dangling above the floor and, no doubt about it, those who will be throwing themselves down the ice in February in search of an Olympic medal are truly mad.

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I had only dipped my toe in the water when the Pacific Ocean awaits. The track in Whistler will be revolutionary - faster than ever before with more G-force than a fighter pilot would be expected to handle.

But strangely enough, my flirtation with skeleton has left me wanting more. It's exhilarating stuff but I may have to look further afield than Bath.