Olympic Spirit

17th February 2006

Shortly after I graduated from Manchester University, I did my best to delay full-time work for as long as possible by training as a ski instructor. Well, I was a twenty two without a real clue of what I wanted to do with my life so this seemed to me to be as good idea as any and one, that to this day, I have never regretted. To pass ski exams you have, not surprisingly, to be able to ski very well and this is virtually impossible to accomplish without spending a lot of time practising on snow covered mountains. An expensive pursuit. So I worked here and there during the Summers in the UK to pay for the training and practice on the mountains. Eventually I reached my goal and on a freezing day in Aviemore I took the British Association of Ski Instructor's (BASI) test and achieved a respectable pass at Grade III, the entry point. Others, I knew went for BASI II and BASI I; these were people who looked like they would end up working for some time on a mountainous peak. Most of the other instructors I knew were content with the Grade III as this provided a permit to teach in Scotland and was recognised by travel companies who at the time were offering ski guiding jobs in the Alps. I applied to a travel firm informing them in my CV that I was a language graduate and that I spoke French and Italian hoping I would end up in either a French or Italian Ski resort. So, when an offer came through for a job in Austria, I was a little surprised. I had a job in a country I had never been to and had no knowledge of the language. But I didn't care. I was off to the Alps and, as luck would have it, to one of Austria's top alpine resorts Kitzbuhel (www.kitzbuehel.com). The Winter season that followed turned out to be one of the best I have ever had with the most laughs and happiest of skiing memories.

In subsequent years I made made an annual pilgrimage to the Alps and then one year managed to do something which every mountain enthusiast I have met wants to do: travel to the Himalayas. I was very lucky to be able to travel to Nepal and trek to a point where I could see Everest, or at least the bits not perpetually covered in cloud, with the naked eye. From time to time I take out my Nepalese trekking maps and retrace my route.

It will come as no surprise to learn I have been looking forward to the start of the Winter Olympics in Turin (www.torino2006.org) . The events that hold interest for me are the downhill ski races, the snowboarding, ski jumping and figure skating. The downhill races are always spectacular viewing:a combined test of technical expertise and athletic ability. In these events speeds of 125 kilometres per hour on steep mountain slopes are not for the fainthearted. Like many winter sports fans I was convinced the men's gold medal for the down hill would go to either one of two American skiers Daron Rahlves or Bode Miller or one of the great ski racers from the Austrian or Swiss teams. In the end it was the lightning speed of the French man Antoine Deneriaz who eclipsed the time of the other Olympians on the race course at Sestriere to take the Gold medal. It was a great win and one that Mons. Deneriaz will treasure the rest of his life.

However one of the most extraordinary feats for me came from the pairs figure skating. The lady in the brother and sister team from China, Zhang Dan and Zhang Hao, took a horrible fall on her knee only to recover a few minutes later to complete the routine and take the Silver medal. It must have taken a herculean effort and I was delighted she achieved a place on the podium. But perhaps the best moment came in an event which I can hardly bare to watch as it looks so dangerous: the skeleton sled . This is the sport where the athlete jumps onto a tiny sled and zooms head first down an icy track at very high speeds. I was delighted that Britain's Shelley Rudman took the Silver medal. I also marvelled at her bravery: it was rewarded with a place in Olympic history.

Yesterday afternoon, inspired by the athletes at the Olympics, I decided it was time for me to take some exercise. I went out for what I intended to be a gentle stroll in the park. After all, what else could I manage under the circumstances ?

As I began to walk my thoughts turned to other great Winter Olympians of the past such as Jean Claude Killy and Alberto Tomba; without realising it my pace quickened and I forgot the events of the last few months. In fact my legs completely forgot I am supposed to be weakened by the drugs I have had to take. I got to the park and saw other joggers enjoying the winter sunshine then started the familiar circuit that took me back home. Spurred on by either my own folly or the Olympic spirit, I continued running and found myself back at my front door sooner than I had planned, out of breath but feeling like I too had won something that day.