Whilst my far more esteemed insidethegames colleagues Duncan Mackay, Mike Rowbottom and David Owen were rubbing shoulders with Presidents, Kings and a vast array of star-studded names at the 121st International Olympic Committee Session in Copenhagen, I was unceremoniously sent to the city of Bath last week`and informed that I would be heading down the practice bob skeleton track used by no less than the Great Britain skeleton team in their preparations for the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics.

So vague was the message I was given about my rather bizarre assignment that I barely gave it much thought on the train over to the charming city. Once I arrived at the University of Bath where the track is located I began to realise in earnest what I had let myself in for.
 

Since I had only taken the suit I was wearing and as I was attending a rather high profile function at London’s Oxo Tower during the evening, I was hoping to retain a relatively presentable condition.
 

When I asked the skeleton instructor Danny if I would be okay to wear my suit down the track, he offered an ominous wry smile and words I had half hoped not to hear: "Yeah, you’ll be fine. Just tuck you trousers into you socks and take your tie off so it doesn't get caught in the sledge and smash your face into the track." Problem apparently solved then!
 
As I approached the tarmac track from the bottom and gazed upwards towards the start line, I was pleasantly surprised that it didn't at first look all that steep.

However as we have all experienced when travelling down hill at a pace, the vista appears much worse peering down at your nemesis from the peak rather than making uncalculated assessments from the bottom. I realised once I had reached the top of the track, it was far steeper than my previous ground level assessment.

We – the media – were first treated to a demonstration of elite members of the British skeleton team going down the track at a startling pace. It became apparent very quickly - with an immediate sense of alarm - of how close to the ground the athletes lay and of how exceptionally muscular the athletes looked in their skin-tight Lycra clothing.

As I have not been a regular to my gym in recent months, I was rather glad I did not possess the appropriate clothing to head down the track as the material would have not been tremendously flattering.

Once I was ready to go - and I use the term “ready” rather loosely - I was asked to sign a form regarding insurance were I to be severely injured while heading down the track – never a form which instills one with confidence.
 

I was then given the overwhelming honour of being the first journalist to have a go on the track following the completion of Team GB’s runs.
 

I took my tie off, tucked my trousers into my socks and ensured that I had nothing of any value on me - which I was able to remove!

Danny passed me my helmet and the vital safety instructions which I listened to with rapt attention.

"Keep your head looking up at all times. Always look forward and tense your body at all times or your face will smash into the track.

"Also keep your feet up in the air. If you put them down, the track will snap your ankles off. Believe me; I’ve seen it happen before." Reassurance indeed!

It was at this point that I began to wonder why Danny had gone into bob skeleton instructing rather than motivational speaking...

He continued: "I’m only going to give you a gentle push start [as opposed to the running start of the elite athletes] but when you reach this point in the track [he pointed to the halfway stage] that’s when it’s going to start feeling really fast. Make sure you hold on really tight there”. No problem Danny, I intend to.

"When you reach the bottom, you’re going to think that you’ll fly off the end but the bungee will stop you immediately and snap you back up the track. Hold on really tight there too. When you eventually come to a stop, I’ll come over and get you."

With a vomit bag I hoped?

I lay flat on the sledge and got in position as Danny began to slowly push me off the start line down the slope which seemed to get steeper by the second.

"Wait a second" I shouted and Danny drew the sledge to the halt. "Am I in the right position?"

It was a stupid and nervous question to which I already knew the answer and of course the subliminal motive was to delay the inevitable.

Danny smiled, nodded and continued to push the sledge towards the point of no return.

The only way I can describe the sensation is by saying that it is very similar to the beginning of a terrifying roller-coaster. You start by heading at an agonizingly slow and tension raising pace up a very steep slope armed with the knowledge that you’re about to plummet back down a fair bit faster. A colossal adrenalin rush for sure!

I felt Danny withdraw his hold of the sledge and my slim vehicle began to accelerate at a phenomenal rate.

I was informed that my top speed would be about 30 kilometres per hour and although that doesn’t sound so dramatic in theory, experiencing this whilst  laying flat with your head an inch above a downhill tarmac track knowing that only your tight grip are preventing a prolonged stay at the hospital, is rather unnerving.

With the speed increasing, my fear became displaced by invigoration. I was actually rather enjoying myself.

The final stages of the run were the fastest and short of me bellowing out a drawn out expletive I shall not repeat here, they passed by in a flash.

I hit the bungee - which stopped me as violently as Danny had said it would – and shot back up the track.

I had the urge to put my feet down before I remembered Danny’s joyful anecdote of the last poor soul who had done so and immediately recoiled.

As I slowed down to an eventual stand-still, Danny came and grabbed the sledge from underneath me.

"How did you find it?" he asked.

"It was actually really fun," I replied. "Thanks for everything."

On the return journey to London, I reflected upon my experiences of the day. Heading down a track at 30kph with a push start is one thing, though still rather frightening, but the British skeleton team, including Olympic silver medallist Shelley Rudman, will soon be taking on the appropriately named Whistler Track at the Vancouver 2010 Olympics at speeds approaching 150kph.This is the fastest track ever built.

Certainly not for me but if you happen to be an "adrenalin junkie" with suicidal tendencies, I urge you to give it try. You might turn out to be quite good at it.
 

Tom Degun is the Paralympic correspondent and reporter for insidethegames