Avatars, monster carp and wholegrain mustard...and chivalry is dead it seems

In the absence of anything better to do - and because I know I won’t have time to write for a couple of days) - I am striking while the proverbial iron is hot and rambling away in a confused and generally unstructured manner. Hang on, isn’t that what blogging is all about anyway? In any event, our flight is heavily delayed, we are both tired and irritable and are finding the entire mess most tiresome and vexatious. Yes, this particular Jet is anything but Easy. Try SleazyJet perhaps...

So, the racing is over, and I have come away from the weekend feeling very encouraged and positive. Eleven weeks into training and in the midst of a heavy training block, it seems that I have some good speed without winding down and there is more to come. Saturday’s race was pretty solid. It was a straight final and I led the field early on, with myself and the girl from Nord slugging it out for the majority of the first 1k. I stayed in touch for most of the second half but she had more diesel in the tank and I found that my legs had nothing to sprint with. Lying in second place though, all of a sudden I had the shock of my life when my bow side blade flew out of my hand. I’d hit a buoy! At one point my blade was at front stops and I was at back stops...but I quickly gathered myself and slid up the slide as if in mid-stroke, and picked up where I left off. Julia says that from the bank it looked like I sat there for ages thinking about what to do!

I came off the water feeling that I had made a very good showing in my first international race since 2006 despite horrible tiredness and a very broken night the night before due to a loud party going on in the hotel. At the third increase in volume I stomped to the room phone and called reception to complain. To be fair to the hotel, they moved us straight away but I proceeded to lie there and twiddle my thumbs, willing myself to go to sleep. You know how it is.....I think I need to go and see my NLP person who helped me deal with the effects of adrenal fatigue (and who also runs a fantastic clinic for ME sufferers) and the spirals one can go into! My “stop” sequences only seemed to work for a short period of time and I had forgotten my soundtracks for sleep and regeneration.

I went to bed worried that I was too tired to race, that in my exhaustion I wouldn’t be able to raise my game and get “up for it” enough. I considered pulling out altogether as I didn’t want the embarrassment of a bad result. Jules tells me that she has to run her stops when she starts to analyse her tiredness...she has pulled herself out of ME so she KNOWS tired. I lay there – again – waiting for sleep to arrive and take over.

Sunday came around – again after a pretty sleepless night – and I lined up for my heat. We decided that I would just do enough to qualify for the final, knowing that I would have my hands full again in the final. I threw everything I had at the start and within 30 strokes was a length up. By the 500m mark I had clear water on the field and drew away gradually, feeling in control and knowing that I had enough time in case anyone sprung any surprises. Easing over the line rating at about 30 I felt that the cobwebs had been blown out and I could regenerate for the final. Leg massage, head massage and I was ready to boat in the searing heat.

This was a time to trust myself, to become one with my body and ask it to deliver. I cut the warm up short as the sun was so strong – 1.30pm is not a fun time of day to race – and sat quietly at the start, feeling the boat bobbing underneath me and letting my hand dip in the water, drawing strength and connection from it. As the green light showed, I again attacked the start with all my might. Within the first quarter it was clear to me that the fight would be between Marie-Anne Frenken and I again. This time I knew where she was strong and we had adjusted my race plan and moved my feet forward. When her move came at the 1000m, apparently she was looking around, puzzled that I was still there, leading her by just a fraction. It was like a brawl most of the way down the course, trading punches all the way down the track, bowballs nudging one past the other with each stroke. In the end her diesel engine got my tired legs and she just broke clear water over me over the line. The rest of the field trailed home behind us, and we exchanged exhausted congratulations with each other on the line. It’s a funny thing, each time I have raced in my single at international events, the competitors are genuinely pleasant to each other. At domestic events, I have already alluded to the fact that there is a distinct unpleasantness....is this a lightweight women’s thing?

Again, on no level could I have been disappointed with that row. I had gained a good few seconds on the Dutch sculler, who I have since discovered is the Dutch lightweight sculler entry at the World Cup in Lucerne. I have come away knowing that we are on track, that I have some good speed at all points through the race and I can’t wait to race again....fresh, tapered and raring to go.

CONTD.....

We had a long wait at Amsterdam airport for our flight, and landed a bit grumpy and very very tired (having also LMFAO at the pathetic efforts of the England team at the World Cup). We came through the “Nothing to Declare” bit....in fact, I did have something to declare:

“I declare that I am a tired girl and want to go home. If I don’t go home now I shall thcweam and thcweam until I’m thick (puke, not thtupid) and thtamp my foot”.

However, all of that went out of the window, when up sidled a certain Mr Moss, totally unexpectedly, bearing a bunch of flowers for each of us and smothering me in the hugest kisses. I was overjoyed, and love it that he does things like that. He’d driven up, even though we had our car at the hotel, just to surprise me.

And so, I had my Mossing a whole lot earlier than I expected and all tiredness was forgotten. Thank you my darling! And thank you to my baby sister, who has become such an integral part of the dream. This quote on being sisters went into a card I wrote to her before we flew out to Holland. I think it sums up how I feel (apart from the last part...well, maybe once or twice in our lives)!!

“She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child.” ~Barbara Alpert

Guns don’t kill people, WOBBERS do.....

We are liking the Bosbaan course. It’s lovely here, and the regatta organisers have been very helpful, once they’d stopped being so elusive on the transport front. Julia and I spent quite a long time acquainting ourselves with the reception area this morning, reading the regatta information booklet which gave us some useful tidbits:

“At the hotel you will find a regatta service desk where any of your questions regarding the hotel residence, transport or the Holland Beker Regatta will be answered”. We looked around, looked at each other and exclaimed, “Not so much”.

and then read, having phoned for the third time:

“A detailed schedule of transport will be available at the regatta service desk”. Again, we looked around, looked at each other.....

Yep, you guessed it. Not so much.

Anyway, we eventually got in the minibus with some Danish athletes – an Under 23 light men’s four and light girls’ double – and trundled off. The Danish coach asked Julia what we were doing, she explained where we’re from and he asked: “Is she good?”. Loving my smallest sibling, who replied: “Yes, but I would say that. I’m her sister”.

The outings have gone well this afternoon, apart from a little scare from Shep who seemed to know nothing about my bag containing my seat and my rigger – both come in handy in rowing – but once that was sorted out all went swimmingly (and for info, I DIDN’T go swimming)! I’m a bit tired, I think just from not having a brilliant night’s sleep last night and also mentally being quite tired still. We haven’t wound down for this regatta either as we’re gearing up for the big one in a couple of weeks’ time, so I cut the second paddle short as it was going well. I take on board JPM’s advice, that every stroke now has to be perfect, we can’t afford “junk miles” and we have to remain focussed....the moment it goes off the boil, is the moment to call it quits for the day. He quotes Bob Janousek as once saying:

“It’s better to arrive on the start line at 99% and still see the whites of the eyes, than to be there at 101% and for the eyes to be dead”.

The food at the hotel is great – I can’t wait to raid the buffet on Sunday evening before we fly home! I just want to get the racing underway now. There’s going to be a straight final tomorrow, and probably a heat and a final on Sunday. One of the 8 entries for Saturday had a duplicate entry, and she has pulled out, dropping the list to only 6. It’s interesting to see that Catherine Infantino, whom I beat in the first round at HWR on Saturday, has chosen to come here and race instead of attempting to qualify for Henley Royal. I can understand that. The Royal has a completely stacked entry in the Women’s Single, and only two entries will qualify this evening.

So, a 12 o’clock weigh in it is tomorrow...deep joy, but it’s not as bad as the 2pm weigh in at 55.5 kilos I have had to do in the past!

Gearing up again!!

It has been el scorchio in Henley today!! Finally. I find the weather really depressing in this country sometimes but I love it when the sun shines and the buzz around the Royal really starts. Lots of American crews thumping up and down the river (and not necessarily going that quickly either I’m afraid to say), the booms jumping out at unsuspecting scullers, the island creeping out to get you when the circulation pattern changes. Yes, I am ashamed to say that a couple of years ago, I crashed into the island, not once, but twice in two weeks following the booms going downstream and just being in my own little world. I got my come uppance by being catapulted out of the stern of my boat both times.....idiot. I’m not sure which was worse though; the fact that I did it twice, or the fact that the piling guys who were moored up alongside just watched me do it and let me scramble my way back into the boat with my tail between my legs and my ego in tatters!!

The boat is loaded and the weight making process begins again (I gain weight when I fly)...

Am starting to look forward to the weekend’s racing in Holland now – it’s the Holland Beker (the ACTUAL Beker is the heavy men’s event, with a Ladies’ Trophy on offer for the big girls as well) on the Bosbaan in Amsterdam. The race plan is coming together a lot more, Julia (my baby sister, confidante, coach, general cricket in my ear) is keeping her beady eye on me and wheedling out my “shitnesses” as we like to call them, and we’re gaining in confidence. I hadn’t realised who I’d been racing at the weekend, and feel happy that I have managed to gain some good speed in the ten weeks I have been back in training.

I have been really surprised at people’s genuine happiness for me following the weekend’s racing. I bumped into John Mottram this afternoon while I was doing weights, and he was full of bounce at his own amazing achievement, completing the RAAM (Race Across America) in a team with Sir Steve Redgrave. I am so pleased for him too and I think we both choked up at each other’s mutual success. Apparently Steve is in a bad way from a really nasty fall - I wish him a speedy recovery! As John left me, it hit me that three months ago I could barely get out of bed and that I’ve actually won something worthwhile. I’m afraid I came over all snotty and tearful in the middle of the weights room! As for John, I couldn’t think of a nicer man to have done something so amazing – they rode ALL the way across America. It’s a bloody long way! It reminds me of a Snoopy cartoon I saw once in the CRA boathouse in Cambridge. Snoopy is rowing a dinghy along, underneath the caption: “C’est loin, l’Amerique!” Damn right, little dawg!

Julia is coming over tomorrow and we’re driving up to Stansted. I’m going to miss my boy terribly....it’s been ages since we last had a night apart. I remember when I first split up with my husband being asked if I found the nights the worst and most lonely part of the break-up. I had to honestly say that I noticed no change. It was so rare – due to my husband’s different sleep patterns – that we actually went to bed at the same time! Now to fall asleep being held by someone who loves you (and who you love so completely too) is a prerequisite in my book! It’ll be strange to be away from him but times like this make you appreciate the every day a whole lot more. He went and did a time trial tonight – faster than last week despite a funny wind and a load of mental stress – I love watching him ride and I felt so happy that he was prepared to give up a night at the Hayes circuit last night to help Ze German celebrate her birthday at Stein’s in Richmond. I think he knows how much I value Jules and her unending support. You’ll hear LOADS more about her I promise...suffice it to say we’ll have a little corner of Bavaria in Ancastle Green very shortly!

Peace – Out. Time for beddy byes xxx

The come down

Well, the dust has settled, the race forgotten and the training continues....in fact, to be truthful, the training never really stopped for Henley Women's Regatta. We decided not to wind down for it as it fell in the middle of a training block, and so it was back on the river on Monday morning almost as if nothing had happened. But it had. I felt that there was more reason to hold my head up high, more reason to justify the hours I spend on the water, and more validity to my dreams, which have been fermenting for years.


It feels like the beginning of something new and special this week. Everything I have experienced up to now, the heartbreak, the pain, the tears, the loneliness, all of this goes into every stroke I take now, and each stroke takes me closer to the dream.

I was asked two questions at Metropolitan Regatta a couple of weeks ago:

"How come you're back in the rowing world?"

and

"Why are you still doing it to yourself?"

I think that I answered those questions pretty comprehensively with my very close second place in the final of the Elite Lightweight Single Sculls, and I have now gone one better and won the same event at Henley Women's Regatta. The people who were friendly to me at weigh in at 6.45 in the morning at the Met were all of a sudden not talking to me by the semi final that afternoon....and by the end of the day I seemed to be persona non grata. It seems that two weeks later at HWR they hadn't forgotten and I may as well have been invisible.

I know that I have been written off as a has been. I know that I have not yet achieved the things that I want to in rowing. I know that I have been under the radar essentially since I raced at the 2006 World Championships at Dorney Lake (Eton). What nobody knows - apart from the special and close people in my life of course - are the events that have shaped where I am coming from and where I am heading.

This time last year I was crying on a bike, unable to get out of the car normally, unable to row, unable to get my trousers on without weird contortionism due to a back injury. I sat on the Upper Thames veranda and watched everyone preparing for summer racing, holding on to the hope that I would compete - somewhere, anywhere - in 2009. Three months ago I could barely walk up a small hill, I was so tired - I was diagnosed with adrenal fatigue - and now here I am, able to train at full volume again, race over 2k and do it over and over again in the same day.


I thank my lucky stars every day for the people in my life who have believed in me, who support me day in day out, mentally, emotionally, physically...and I appreciate my health so much more. The emotion I felt as I crossed the line first on Sunday on my home stretch, in front of my home club was huge. But weirdly, I felt just as much when I completed one 2k race at Wallingford Regatta this May. Three weeks before that I couldn't do 2k at rate 24. Just getting over the course, at "race pace" (it was in fact just survival rowing, the conditions in my lane in the horrendous crosswind were so dreadful) felt like I'd won it.

In fact, in many ways I had won. I've emerged from two years of personal hell.....bereavement, marital breakdown, debilitating injury and illness resulting in indescribable tiredness. The death of our beautiful cousin has taught me to seize the day, live in the moment and appreciate the tiny things in life....a kiss from someone you love, an impromptu picnic, your favourite song on the radio, or a dragonfly landing on the stern of my boat, sitting on the inspirational quote taped there by my sister before racing on Sunday.

Each day I adopt the "attitude of gratitude". To quote a certain fat bear:

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift, that’s why it's called the present" A.A. Milne.