NEW BRAUNFELS, TEXAS– If Superman can do it, so can I. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I stand, muscles quivering, halfway down a track that leads to what looks vaguely like a stadium goalpost in a barn outside of New Braunfels. Happily, a fluffy pad the size of my living room is ready to receive me when I soar over the crossbars. If I somehow overshoot the pad, which I doubt is even possible, a cozy looking cornfield, all tender green husks and cushy stalks, lies beyond. I squeeze my eyes shut for a nanosecond, rock back on my right foot and blast down the runway, pushing a 10-foot pole along the rubber-coated pathway in front of me. As it slips into a metal-lined box in the ground, I rock hard against it and — sproing! — catapult myself into the air and over the bar. It feels like I’ve flown to the clouds and back, but I’ve only cleared 5 feet 6 inches. Considering the adrenaline rush it gives me, I can’t imagine how legendary Ukrainian vaulter Sergei Bubka felt when he pole-vaulted 20 feet 2 inches in 1985, a record that still stands. Pole vaulting got its start from farmers and ranchers looking for a quick way to cross canals or irrigation ditches without getting wet. In 1896 it became part of the Olympic Games, and with the London Olympics looming, I’ve caught the pole-vaulting bug, too. Here at Lone Star Pole Vaulting, beginners share space with elite athletes ages 8 to 88, under the tutelage of head coach and owner Kris Allison. I asked Allison if he could teach me to leap tall   more