The Pole Vault is a singular and uniquely dangerous sport. The people who do it anyway aren't in it for money. They're in it to fly, and because they're a little crazy. Renaud Lavillenie stares down the runway and up at the bar. His eyes seem to bulge, his eyebrows bounce, his head jerks to the left. He could be cracking his neck; it's more likely the Frenchman is thinking, Putain de merde qui est élevé, or, in English, "Holy shit, that's high."
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