World anxious as man of motion is brought to temporary standstill

Ships, it has been wisely noted, are "safe in a harbour, but that is not what ships are for".

Michael Schumacher, it might be similarly said, is safe while lolling in his drawing room, but that is not what he is on this planet for.

His mission is motion.

Ironically, even when sitting down - the position required by his profession - he was always on the move.

Then, race over, he leaped onto podiums and out of planes, he ascended into history and bounded onto motorcycles.

The only time he seemed to stop was to change his method of conveyance.

It is why this image of Schumacher in a coma, in a bed, at a standstill, is a discordant one.

It is like Spiderman with no webbing left, it is like a tightrope walker with vertigo.

It is a man out of his element and an athlete not in control.

A champion who flirted with danger is now in it, leading TV commentator Martin Brundle to tweet: "Come on Michael, give us one of those race stints at pure qualifying pace to win through, like you used to. You can do it."

Head injuries are immediately alarming and no precise prognosis is available.

Yet this much we know: If given the chance, Schumacher will fight for his life for he is conditioned to do so.

Struggle is the athlete's hymn.

Footballers struggle with injury, boxers with slurring speech, gymnasts with confidence, a UFC fighter with the pain of a bent shin.

But like Muhammad Ali, who is afflicted with Parkinson's disease, they all push on for stubbornness is their finest weapon.

If the great driver emerges from a coma, in his lucid moments he might think: No hard tarmac track of hot rubber could fell me and neither will some cold slope of snow.

When the accident occurred, Schumacher was where he wanted to be: in his giant playground, which is the outdoor planet.

He is a cigar-smoking, poker-playing fellow, who once admitted to an escaped tear while watching Slumdog Millionaire, yet he is not quite a sedentary creature.

He is constructed of the same bone as us, yet his veins are equivalent to an altogether different wiring.

He is more the competitive cousin of the legendary mountaineer George Mallory, who after being asked repeatedly why he wished to climb Everest, replied in the 1920s, "Because it's there".

A tired Mallory was being glib, but his answer was seen as profound and romantic, not words usually associated with Schumacher.

Yet both these men are built of an irresistible spirit, who push at the limits of strength and skill.

Schumacher looks down ski slopes and rises high to skydive because he is defined by challenge.

Because it's just there.

It is as if it is an impulse he cannot resist, but it is also his escape for when athletes retire they are abruptly expected to turn off an adrenaline tap and strangle their competitive instinct.

But after a lifetime in raucous stadiums, the silent backyard is an inadequate arena.

It is partly why Schumacher rides motorcycles and even returned to F1 racing, for it must make him feel whole.

People said Schumacher took risks and of course he did. But these were risks that Warren Buffett would have approved of.

The investor has noted that "risk comes from not knowing what you're doing" and Schumacher seemed to know.

Even his wildness on the track appeared calibrated.

He had an advanced computer in his head into which skill and risk and technology and speed was factored into and decisions made in microseconds. Mostly he has been right.

On the weekend in the snow, alongside his 14-year-old son, something went wrong.

It is reported that he was off-piste - that is, on an unmarked slope - but that the slope was hardly extreme. Still it will be argued: Did he slip in the snow or was he surprised? Was he trying something technically difficult or was it the simple error? Either way an intelligent man has long comprehended the idea of chance.

He understood that in racing, as in life, no guarantee existed.

In 2001, he said: "To have total safety I think is absolutely impossible to call, in any part of life."

He accepted F1 was a safe sport, yet admitted, "If (still), something happens, then that's what I would call fate and fate is something we all have to face sooner or later."

A battle remains and while death is a deeply unwelcome visitor, it lingers.

But so does hope, which is why we wait for this driver of the red rocket to get well, to walk again, to one day even finish another skydive, for this is who he is.

A man tripped - and presumably only temporarily - by nature yet himself such a force of nature.

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