Learning from the skeleton

The skeleton in this post is not of the Sebastian (my best bony friend in Part I)- kind, but the sport that involves throwing yourself head first down at ice chute at speeds of 130km/h.

One of the ways in which I have tried to experience the culture of my host country has been through supporting its sports and sportspeople. Jessica Ennis and London 2012, Andy Murray and Wimbledon 2013, the English football team and their various exploits. This winter, it's been the Olympics. I spent Valentine's day afternoon refreshing the BBC website, closely following the dreams of Lizzie Yarnold and Mervyn, her bobsled.

Commentating through the competition was Amy Williams, skeleton champion of Vancouver 2010, who is also Lizzie Yarnold's mentor and landlady. In one interview, Williams explained how she was so focused on her sport to the point of brutality, "Will this ice-cream help me win a gold at the Olympics? No, then don't eat it". Showing similar determination and single-mindedness, Yarnold uprooted herself and moved to accommodation within 5 minutes of her training place; the training sessions that motivate her most are on the most unsociable days (i.e. Christmas) and hours, because you must have reached a certain level of dedication that every single minute counts. We hear about 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, and it is here that we see it.

Yarnold knows about the influence that she has and will now (after winning an Olympic gold) have even more of. She keeps a daily blog, perhaps in some part to encourage sponsorship for British Skeleton, but also to inspire those who look up to her, as she did to Williams. I'm not ashamed to say that I've been one of those inspired by her story, as I have been by so many others. The simple determination to work hard for what you want to achieve is a universal principle; but how many of us can really say we put it in practice? I certainly struggle, but it is listening to these stories (however, romanticised and simplified) that inspire me, and give me that understated optimism to press on. And I hope I'll never tire of hearing them.