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Tuesday 19 May 2015

What on earth draws athletes to 'Dancing With the Stars'?

LOLO JONES HAS her game face on, and she desperately wants me to know it.

"Every fast dance, honestly, I pick them up really fast. I picked up the jive in, like, seven minutes. It was ridiculous. And that's one of the hardest dances." She's on a patio behind a dance studio, baking in the Los Angeles sun, a pair of oversized sunglasses hiding her eyes. But to stand before her is to feel the confidence of her gaze, a bravado both reassuring and surprising. Reassuring because Jones is in training for her debut on Season 19 of "Dancing With the Stars," that televised orgy of sequins and salsas, and one might fear she's out of her depth. Surprising because Jones -- who has competed in three Olympics and, well, let's say it, famously choked her way through each -- is hardly someone you might think would be (or, frankly, should be) this confident heading into any event. She has repeatedly told practically everyone who will listen that her senior prom date ditched her because she couldn't slow-dance. Lolo Jones is on a mission of redemption.

"Every race is different," Jones says. "There's going to be something that happens that you're going to have to adjust for, something that tries to stress you out, and you just have to stay calm. But that, I think, will be a huge advantage for me. Athletes, we're used to having to step it up for competition." When I ask if she's prepared for the possibility of getting voted off the show first, she lowers the shades and stares at me like I've just run over her cat. "Dude, that would be awful."

Keo Motsepe, the sinewy South African who is Lolo's professional dance partner this season, arrives, and the two head into the studio to rehearse their cha-cha. Jones certainly looks the part of a dancer -- tall and lean, her body all sharp angles, a tangle of cheekbones, clavicles, knees and ribs. But then the music starts and her confidence leaks like the air from a punctured tire. If you saw her in the Olympics, you've seen it before: Jones breaking stride, losing rhythm, a progressive panic gripping her body, stiffening her movements, slowing her down. Keo tries to keep her focused ("C'mon! Open, hit, open, hit, cha-cha-cha!"), but with each passing attempt, she visibly stiffens. "I just feel so awkward in the opening," Jones confesses, fidgeting with her ponytail for the 11th time.

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