THE last time the winter sport of boardercross hit the headlines, it pitched Lindsey Jacobellis into Olympic folklore. The young American was within a second of winning gold in Turin when she tried to showboat on the final jump and fell flat on her face. The Swiss rider behind her swept by to take the honours and Jacobellis was left nursing a bruised ego in second place.

Watching that day from the bottom of the hill, Zoe Gillings, Britain’s best snowboard cross rider, had some sympathy for Jacobellis. But when the world No 1 insisted on doing the same thing at a subsequent world championships — this time making the jump — Gillings thought stupidity had overtaken bravado. “It helped publicise the sport,” says the 24-year-old. “When I explain to people what I do, taxi drivers, for example, they’ll say, ‘Is that the one where the girl fell just before the finish?’ It might not have been good for Lindsey but it was great for boardercross.”

If Gillings became the Olympic champion in Vancouver next year, it would be one of the wackiest stories in sporting history. Brought up on the Isle of Man where there are precious few mountains and almost never any snow, Gillings has overcome such minor inconveniences to become the world’s fifth-ranked snowboard cross rider and one of Britain’s best hopes for a winter medal in 2010.

A bigger obstacle to her career came a few months before the 2006 Games in Turin when, attempting to jump over a car for a publicity stunt, Gillings crashed and broke her left foot. The bones were shattered like cornflakes, she says, and the doctor advised her to consider a new profession, an opinion she ignored.

A further two years elapsed before her confidence fully returned. Even now, her foot protests at heavy landings and skewed take-offs. “Over a long competition it starts to hurt pretty badly but I know what I can and can’t do,” she says.

As if hurtling down the mountain on a lightweight board does not pump enough adrenaline, the boardercrossers have to contend with three opponents also in perilous thrall to the laws of gravity. Deliberate pushing is banned but riders can be taken out at any time by a rival, which makes the sport seem a cross between ice hockey, rollerball and the alpine downhill. “I did a lot of sports when I was growing up,” Gillings says. “I did gymnastics for several years and even tried ballet, though I was rubbish at that. Skiing and snowboarding were the most fun. You’ve got speed and being in the air and slightly out of control, and the adrenaline. It’s awesome.

“I was lucky in one way. I was educated at home and that allowed me to spend five or six weeks every winter in France. My parents were my teachers and they came with me. So ever since I was four I’ve been able to get out on the snow.”

Initially, Gillings tried half-pipe and slalom, but once she was introduced to snowboard cross there was no other choice to be made. “I did my first race in Argentina when I was 16 and remember pulling out of the startgate and the other girls just getting further and further ahead. But I knew it was what I wanted to do and I got better quite quickly. I like having a competitor right next to me and I like the straightforwardness of it. If you go across the line first, you’ve won.”

Gillings has already embarked on a six-month schedule of travel, training and competition that allows her just four days back home for Christmas. Support from sponsors has just about papered over the cracks in funding for all winter sports, but Gillings spent only four days on the snow this summer. The rest of the time has been spent at the University of Bath, where she has a practice start gate and an excellent gym, but no mountains.

“I’ve always been competing against people from countries with lots of snow and mountains,” she says. “It makes it awesome when you beat them.” Just don’t expect any premature celebrations.