Well, you can't say I didn't finish off the season with a bang ...

So, Sunday was the National Championships, and the culmination of my first skeleton season. The race was ... uhh ... how do I put this .... um ... fast. A little too fast actually.

As they say, "Go big or go home." I decided to do both.

I was first off the block for this race. There are forerunners who go before the racers to make sure there aren't any obstacles or problems with the track (I'm itching to know how I sign up for that job ... ) but their times are not shown. So the first racer, aka ME, is the real clue as to what kind of ice conditions really exist.

Turns out the ice conditions were ... uhhh ... a little bit faster than I am used to. I had a nice start, a pretty clean top and a great middle section. I came out corner eight nicely (let me refresh your memory on corner eight: it takes your sled away). I had a respectable straightaway and a good entrance into corner nine. Felt some good G-force in the corner, a little more than usual, did a little up steer and then got ready to do my hard down steer and brace for impact (let me refresh your memory on the exit of corner nine: it's a cement wall). Except the impact never came. The opportunity to do my hard down steer never even came. Instead of the normal falling-off-the-corner feeling, I found myself experiencing a new and very unexpected flying-off-the-corner feeling. A flying-off-the-corner-huh-I-am-upside-down-and-airborne feeling. That may have looked something like this (don't worry Mom, this is just a re-enactment):

For the record, I should be facing down.

As I thought to myself "Are you freakin' kidding me? Isn't once in a season enough?", I watched my sled go flying out from ... umm ... over me and disappear down the track, leaving my hands free to wave at the crowd watching me from the bridge above, before I cushioned my landing with the softest part of me available: my elbows.

I finally slid to a stop in corner 12, stood up, ripped off my helmet and stomped my way down the track, grumbling. Then as I came to the entrance of corner 13, it dawned on me that I should maybe get out of the track, so that the race could continue.

And just like that, my first National Championships was so over.

But, even though it totally sucks that I seem to choose race days as the times to practice crashing, there are a few notably positive points that can be drawn:

1) It turns out that I clocked 120.1 kph in the straightaway before I crashed. There were only three women that went over 120 kph: two world cup sliders, and me. I was in third place going into corner nine, which is pretty respectable. The reason I came off my sled is that I was going 5 kph faster than I usually go in that corner, so when I went to do my normal steers, I was waayyyy off, and in turn steered myself up, up and into the air. So, it turns out that I crashed because I was doing well, which, if you have to choose, I guess is the best way to crash.

2) I didn't wreck my good racing suit.

3) I didn't break my sled. Too much. My sled was upside down this time, so it burned through all the tape on the top, but didn't wreck my runners, or crack the fiberglass. Too badly ...

4) Unlike last time, when I crawled my sorry self out of the track to be greeted by absolutely no one, this time I had a very big audience. I know. Since I was upside down, I could see every one of them staring at me in horror. I am pretty sure that several people's mothers will never let them try the sport now, courtesy of me.

5) I have WAAYYY cooler bruises this time:

I have a few others, but Jason wouldn't let me put those pictures on the internet.

So, that brings my first skeleton season to a close. Even though I have had some good bruises and frustrating moments, I also have three medals to show for it, plenty of new friends and BCS hasn't asked me not to come to come back next year ... so I guess, all in all, I didn't do too bad.