Capital "E" for Experience

Bobsledding has been described to me as "being strapped into a garbage can and kicked off a cliff;" having experienced this for myself this week, I would say that is a pretty accurate description.

Thursday morning, I arrived at Olympic Park and signed a waiver saying that I would excuse their organization from any liability including “DEATH.” (It was in bold capital letters on the document in the case that you think I am being overdramatic.)

When the time to sled came, I was put in what looked like a motorcycle helmet, told to keep my feet flat in the sled, shrug my shoulders to keep my neck from bobbing around, hold my back up straight to let the 3-4 Gs of force to stack my spinal column instead of push it so that I wouldn’t slip a disc. They told me to hold onto the ropes inside of this enormous fiberglass shell and then they pushed me down 40 stories of ice.

At first it felt manageable. I was keeping my spine stacked and my shoulders shrugged and I thought I was going to make it but as the speed picked up I began to feel this pressure on my back that I could not fight. It was as if someone was pushing my body flat in the sled. I kept hitting my head on the person in front of me and eventually on the sides of the fiberglass can as we got whipped around curves. I remember thinking, When is this going to be over? Death is probably around the next bend.

Upon arrival at the bottom I had vertigo and when the sled operators told me to put my arms in the air and stand, I could hardly tell which direction was up. My brain may have been a wee bit jostled. I was grateful that there was no food in my stomach as anything in my belly would have been on the ice after that ride.

When I tell people that I went bobsledding, they are jealous and say, “That must have been so much fun!” The consensus among those who also rode with me, including those who sat in the fourth position like me, was that it wasn’t fun but more of an Experience, with a capital E.