Jimmy Shea, a 33-year-old on the U.S. Olympic skeleton team, a sport that is debuting at Salt Lake City, shares a weekly diary on his preparations for the Olympics.

I was living in Lake Placid, New York, waiting tables and running around with a bunch of local guys doing every exciting thing I could think of -- cliff jumping, water polo, riding motorcycles and jeep four-wheeling. That winter we made our own bobsled -- I was a brakeman. Then I began driving a two-man and four-man. But four-man bobsledding is very expensive -- almost $40,000.

JIMMY SHEA

Shea Birthdate: June 10, 1968 Hometown: Lake Placid, New York Sport: Skeleton Accomplishments: Ranked No. 3 in skeleton in the world, he qualified for the Olympic team by taking silver in Lake Placid. The qualification made him the third generation of his family to be in the Winter Games -- an American first. His father, Jim Shea, competed in Nordic combined and cross-country skiing in the 1964 Olympics and his grandfather Jack Shea won two gold medals in the 1932 Olympics in speed skating. In 1998, Jimmy became the first American to win a World Cup race at Altenberg, Germany. In 1999, he became the first American to win a World Championship. Currently, he has more World Cup victories than any other American. Skeleton is returning to the Olympics after its last appearance in 1948 in part due to heavy lobbying by Shea for its return. Personal: He's a volunteer firefighter in Lake Placid.

I scared myself half-to-death with bobsledding, but the first time I went down with skeleton the excitement was four times as great. You are so close to the ice at almost 90 mph trying to control a sled that is out of control. The adrenaline was addictive. As soon as I got to the bottom, I said, "How do I get to the top and do it again?" But I was still just sliding with my friends and having fun.

In 1994, I was hanging out with some friends who were hung over -- the other guys were smoking cigarettes along the rail and one guy was throwing up. A guy from the U.S. national team came up to us and said "You guys don't deserve to be on this hill." He was from Oklahoma, and I thought, "Wait a minute, we're locals. This is our hill." It really lit a fire under my butt. I started to pay attention to driving and started to want to go fast. It wasn't about scaring myself anymore, it was about time. I wanted to get faster and faster times.

The next year, I found myself on the national skeleton team in Altenberg, Germany, standing on the beginning of the track with my red-flannel hunting jacket, 1980 Olympic moonboots, big, huge snowmobile gloves and golf shoes for spikes -- I couldn't have been more out of place. The Austrian team pulled up in five minivans with masseuses and trainers -- they all had matching outfits -- the whole nine yards. The American program was ludicrously outgunned financially. I walked over and introduced myself and no one really acknowledged me.

After the first day I was like the Happy Gilmore of skeleton. I was up against the fastest guys with zero experience on the international level. I was racing an old Studebaker of sleds and everyone else was in Ferraris. I was way in the back of everyone else.

I was going to World Cups up against people with four to six years of experience and who had already been on ice for two months that season. It was nearly impossible to win. After two years of doing this I was at my second World Cup when my career hit a turning point. I made the decision that I was either going to quit or stay in Europe and do the best that I could.

So I went to my coach's hotel room and said, "I'm staying." He said "Jimmy hurry up we've got to go to the airport." Then he sat down and said "Jimmy, think about this, your sled's broken. You don't speak the language. You don't know where you are. You don't have any transportation. You have $200 in your pocket and a Visa card. I know you're mad, but let's regroup and go home."

But I stayed. I had an 80-pound sled and a hockey goalie bag full of clothing. I hitchhiked with it. Took train rides. Got rides from other teams. The British used to call me their "pet Yank" because they carried me around so much. I was there for two months. I slept in bobsled sheds. In Austria, I never slept in a hotel that didn't have animals beneath me at the bed and breakfasts and that was a luxury for me. I didn't shower for probably three weeks at a time. But I was learning.

I got to the tracks. One of the British guys loaned me a sled. I went to the wrong Altenberg four times before I found the track. I lived off of these little wieners and bread that you could buy really cheaply at the gas stations. It was an extremely challenging time in my life. I was obsessed with doing well. No matter what it took, I was going to do it.

It was the most difficult time of my life not being able to speak the language and it was so hard and yet I had some of the best experiences of my life. At Christmas in Austria one of the Switzerland sliders came up and asked me where I was spending Christmas. I told her in the four-man shed -- don't tell anyone. She invited me home for Christmas and showed me all over Switzerland. Some of the friendships I made during that time will last a lifetime.

My grandfather once told me that the biggest reward in sport is friendship --- that trophies don't mean anything. He was right, the friendships I made are amazing.

When I was in Europe over those two months I was able to get ice time and extra training on the European tracks. I watched the lugers, bobsledders and skeleton sliders all day long. I helped the track workers in trade for runs. I slowly earned respect form the Europeans once they saw how determined I was and slowly they gave me little tips on how to go faster.

At the end of the two months, there was a World Cup in Altenberg, Germany, in January 1998. I became the first American in history ever to win a World Cup. I came home knowing that the World Championships would be on the same track that year. I trained at the United States Olympic training center in Lake Placid all summer and returned to Altenberg to become the first American to win a World Championship -- with my father by my side. My push and my start record still stands strong at that track today.

To date, I have more World Cup wins than any other U.S. slider and hold a series of track records all over the world. But those are the small things. My ultimate reward is being able to represent my country and be fortunate enough to have met and become friends with so many great people all around the world. This is something my grandfather and father, both former Olympians, told me about when I was young, and I did not begin to realize until that time in Europe. It was afterward that I understood how important representing your country and friendships really are.

Two days ago in Lake Placid, New York, my silver medal at the World Cup firmly placed me third in World Cup points earning me a spot on the U.S. Olympic team in Salt Lake City. With my family, friends and cousins by my side, I became the first American in the Winter Games to have three generations of a family in the Olympics. It still really hasn't totally hit me. But a good friend of mine called me and said, "Well, Jimmy, the only thing you have to figure out is where to tattoo the Olympic rings on you."

It's extremely emotional for me to even think about it. But I look forward to the day when I can walk into the opening ceremonies with my grandfather and father in the stands. That is what I'm looking forward to most.