3 hours ago
5
One of the great joys of being an Olympian is arriving at the athletes’ village and, with it, the shift in your identity from just being a skeleton athlete to being a part of Team GB. There is a real belonging in putting on the T-shirt or jacket with your country’s flag on, and of course with the Olympic rings – a symbol of hope and peace and togetherness.
When I arrived in Sochi, my first Winter Olympics in 2014, I went into my room and I remember collapsing on to the bed with huge pride but also an overwhelming initial feeling of loneliness. I remember being emotional, crying. There was the relief that I had finally made it to the Games, but also a question of “what do I do now?” Fortunately, I didn’t dwell on that for long and dragged myself to the Team GB food hall.
It sounds simple but every day the team designated a base colour for all our clothes – blue T-shirt day, then red and white – and in the communal areas of the athletes’ village, that made everyone from Team GB feel more connected. That helped me shift from feeling overwhelmed into focus and a mindset of: “This is the Olympics and I’m here to do my job and win.”
I’m based this year in Cortina, where many of the events are being held, and even though I am not staying in the village any more, there is a huge buzz here. Visiting Livigno last week, down the road is the Big Air jump, a gigantic structure with hundreds of steps. It looked like the landing zone was in the town itself. There were blue flashing lights outside my hotel room as the Olympic torch went past, people scrambling wildly to follow it. The Games are incredibly special.
For the athletes, this is the pinnacle of their sporting lives. So for them, it’s about trying to lock in and focus as much as they can. Avoiding distraction is key. I’m not fearful about a ban on the British team’s new aerodynamic skeleton helmets. I don’t think it will have a massive effect on them. Team GB are already the best in the world without the new helmet, with Matt Weston and Marcus Wyatt among the favourites to take the gold. They won’t really care too much which helmet they use.
I remember much was made of the custom-made aerodynamic suits that were brought in just before the 2018 Olympics, but I don’t even remember if I used those new suits for my runs! The rules are loose with their wording for this helmet and there are no diagrams or measurements in the regulations.
British Skeleton has innovated the aerodynamic design and pushed on the performance level, which is totally normal and expected in high-performance sport.
I’m in awe of what some of the athletes have had to do to reach these Games. It’s phenomenal that Lindsey Vonn is still due to compete in the downhill skiing despite completely rupturing an ACL and is even to consider going down an Olympic course with a knee brace at the age of 41. It’s going to be an emotional Olympics for her – this week Vonn posted two pictures of her mother, who died in 2022, when mentioning the support she has received. The American has already won everything, she has nothing to prove, but I can’t wait to watch her compete, regardless of what happens.
My experience is different from that of Lindsey but, in the lead-up to my second Olympics in 2018, I was also dealing with injury and illness. The first issue was a lump in a knee. We didn’t know what type of tumour it was at the time (thankfully it turned out to be benign) but I decided not to have surgery before the Games. I didn’t tell any of the wider team, just informing the medical team and promising the surgeon I would have it removed after competing.
Next, I had a chest infection. It was about -20C in Pyeongchang and dusty and the soreness in my chest got worse and worse. On the first day of the race, I was coughing up huge lumps of rock-hard phlegm. Instead of warming up, I’d go to the little room next door and shove my head under a towel and some steam. I couldn’t breathe through my nose and I could barely breathe through my mouth.
Then I had the vestibular issue, which affected my balance. My right ear sustained damage in my early career so sometimes when I was sliding down the track, the inner-ear system was compromised. Very occasionally, my neck became overworked as I flew into a 5G corner, which is more G-force than a fighter pilot often experiences. The vestibular symptoms, dizziness, sometimes blacking out completely, used to come on immediately. Imagine being incredibly drunk, wandering down the street and going sideways. It’s a level of complete physical disorientation and not ideal when travelling at 90mph down a skeleton run.
Unfortunately it did happen to me in Pyeongchang, halfway down the track in my first run. I just had to hold on to the saddle. I was a rag doll, trying to stay on the sled. I didn’t know where I was, didn’t know where to steer. At the bottom of the run, my teammate Jen helped me up, and we hooked arms and styled it out.
After I’d done that first run, I remember trying to call my husband but I couldn’t see my phone. I said to the physio, “if I go again, will it kill me?” We did some checks and decided to continue, and to have the doctor waiting at the bottom for the second run. Luckily, the vestibular issue settled. And I was just then dealing with the chest infection – one last hurdle between me and that historic second Olympic gold.
Athletes are very resilient. Resilience comes through responding to failure and building up that self-belief. That’s so important for these big career moments, and luckily for me it all came good in the end. So many of these Winter sports look dangerous and scary, but these athletes are professionals and these performances are their bread and butter, day in and day out, even if it is extraordinary. I just really hope that whether it be the issues of injury, illness, doping or wider political concerns, the athletes are safe to compete and do so in a fair environment.
