Atlantica - 01.06.2006, Blaðsíða 44

I buckle the chin strap on my black helmet, and shake my head left, right.
Snug. Up, down. Snug. Good fit. The three bobsled drivers standing
beneath the corrugated aluminum canopy at the top of the Olympic course
await my nod, the signaled okay that I’m ready to roll.
Literally.
I’m the third person of four to step into the wheelbob, summer’s version
of the sleek, aerodynamic bobsled. In the back sits Trond Arild Evensen, 26,
a former ski jumper who has been piloting wheelbobs at the Lillehammer
Olympic Bobsleigh and Luge Track for two summer seasons. In front of
Evensen sits Mike McGlynn, 40, a Silicon Valley entrepreneur on vacation
in Norway. I step sideways into the wheelbob, first placing my left foot into
the left gutter, and then my right. I sit down on the narrow bench running
lengthwise down the sled’s center, my legs splayed like a grasshopper.
Our driver, Linda Bye, a 26-year-old semi-professional bobsled pilot and
events coordinator for the Lillehammer Olympic Park, reaches inside the
sled to loosen my seat belt wedged between the shoe gutter and the bench.
I scoot backwards, feeling self-conscious about sitting so closely between
McGlynn’s legs. It’s a position best suited for two lovers rather than two
complete strangers. I suck it up. Olympic athletes aren’t whiners.
“Remember to sit up straight,” Bye tells McGlynn and me before hopping
into her pilot’s seat. “Always sit up straight, even as you feel the force pushing
down on your neck and body.”
I feel a little pathetic because these certainly aren’t the instructions relayed
to professional bobsledders, a.k.a. masters of the nimble and aerodynamic
tuck.
She asks me one final time if I have any back or neck problems and if
AT L A N T I CA 43
Personal Best
Sara Blask takes a summer Winter Olympic tour
around Oslo. Photos by Páll Stefánsson.
PHOTOS AMELIA ARMSTRONG
042-48OsloAtl406.indd 43 23.6.2006 12:19:56