Not the knots!!

The past three weeks have been so mixed, that I don’t really know where to begin, nor do I really know what I should take from them. I have had moments of complete clarity and passion for the goal and journey, and other moments of complete despair and doubt. I feel that I have come on leaps and bounds in so many ways and that I am the strongest and technically best I have ever been, and in the past seven days I have made a technical change that will in time give me the speed that I need to achieve my best potential. Whether that leaves me is first place or last, I hope that I can come away knowing that I did my best and that I had left no stone unturned, for better or worse. However this weekend at Lucerne has thrown into sharp relief that the changes I have made did, when I was under pressure and mistakes are made, tie me up in knots and leave me flailing.

This is in complete contrast to the Holland Beker, where I simply did not race cleverly on the first day, and I learnt some good lessons, which when applied sensibly put me in the A final in a much stronger and larger field than the previous day, when I failed to reach the final at all. Very silly. So there were two very mixed weekends, but the end result was the same on both events: I choked in the final. Having raced very measured races in the heats and semis in Holland, I was beaten and in last place before I even put my hands on the boat. I am working on improving my mental state and have in the past week made some positive steps forward – but seven days is not long enough to bed in and maintain changes, both technically in the boat and mentally (or emotionally for that matter). Long-running and deep-seated “programs” running in the background of my mind find their evil ways into my consciousness and I have been found out both times, in the A Final in Holland and in the B Final in Lucerne.

I am trying to find confidence and trust in myself, my body and my training. Sometimes it works, and other times it flounders spectacularly, as it did on Saturday afternoon in rainy old Lucerne. Now, I KNOW what my training times have been. I KNOW the work I have done over all those long winter months, in the gym, on the bike, in the boat and on the ergo has built a strong base for me. JPM and I have been hugely encouraged by the times I have produced on the water - and not just once, but over and over again. So why, when it comes to the big ones, does that gremlin (I almost gave him a capital G, how interesting – he doesn’t deserve it, by the way) rear his ugly head and reiterate every negative thought, every horrible comment uttered in the playground, by peers, by siblings, teachers, even by parents, come back to haunt me? I caught a crab in the wash over in lane 1 in Saturday’s B Final and recovered well, keeping in touch with the field. Then more bumps came and I felt the others start to pull away from me. Now, rather than do what I have been working so hard on doing for the past ten days or so, and be solely focussed on me and my boat, and the PROCESSES, I became the chaser. I tied myself up in mental and physical knots, not through tiredness or lactate, but through mistake after mistake. You simply can’t afford to do that at this level, when your competitors are as fit as you are and want it as much as you do. And the more I tied myself up, the more that shitty gremlin kept saying, “Well there you are then, you piece of shit. You don’t deserve this. Who do you think you are?” Net effect? Slower and slower and in last place, both times.JPM was gutted for me and I believe felt some pain on his part that he didn’t get out of me what both he and I know that I can achieve. It was interesting that all the times we extrapolated were relatively similar to those that are being produced by the girl I raced and beat at HWR last year. I am not naïve enough to believe that simply means I’ll beat her again. She – and my other competitors – are all part of a system where everything is set up and organised, whereas I have every minute detail to cover for myself, albeit with some great help form Richard, Jules, JPM and my sister, although she has unfortunately had to take a back seat due to work commitments. I am also not so naïve that I don’t think that the steps forward when you are 21 are going to bigger than when you are 32, however we were both there last year and I came out on top. If you’re not well, or if you’re injured, you don’t race. No one can take away from me the things that I have achieved, although a few have tried….”That was luck”, “The other girl may have had illness or injury”, “You just don’t know what the others were doing”. Unfortunately I am more inclined to believe those comments than believe what I know to be true. And therein lies the rub. I just don’t believe in myself. Plain and simple.

All is not doom and gloom, however. When JPM and I set out our objectives for Lucerne, it was to at a minimum make the B final. I achieved exactly that, straight through from the heats and without having to go through the repechage. Yes, I underperformed, however I have still stepped on and my learnings keep adding up. Add to that the fact that we had a fantastic room at the hotel we stayed in, and we did what we both love which is go on road trips...for both Richard and I, half the fun in going somewhere is the process of getting there. The other benefit of course is that you can have absolutely everything you need with you and if necessary, you have somewhere warm and dry you can go to. Many's the time I have put the seats back in the Volvo and rested there in between races! We also had some interesting weather - big thunderstorms on Thursday caused rowers to flee the lake at high speed, with the lightning flashing and crashing thunderbolts rolling over Lucerne. I used to love the thunder and lightning as a kid in Zambia, and great big fat warm raindrops were great for running around in in our cossies (or nothing at all sometimes)!

So, I am going to go away, do some three to four hour stints in the spare single in preparation for the Row Zambezi expedition and return refreshed and ready slay those demons. I have identified that I suffer from training on my own too much, whether in the single or in the gym. It’s not that I don’t push myself, more that there isn’t another external measure and companionship, even just in the form of another beating heart while training. I also do not have the opportunity to “race”, both in absolute and structured events, and in pieces against other boats. In GB, the trials process and all of the team testing builds a solid and confidence-building base of race experience throughout the year that translates well into racing.

Onward to the next big project - last night I headed into London for the final Row Zambezi team meeting. The whole expedition has been well thought out and I know that it will be a lot of fun, and hard work in places! I fly on my birthday, 23rd July and will be away for a month. I am going to miss Richard so much, but I know that I will come back to him so happy to have been back home. I cannot wait to see my family, my uncle, cousins and old and dear friends. I also hope to meet up with the Zambian Rowing Federation and meet the people who help make my entries possible and who are backing me in the whole passport question.

Wish me well!

That weird empty feeling...and frights, frocks and friendship!

I wonder if anyone else experiences this...that odd feeling of void emptiness, when nothing more can be done. No more training, the season is all but over for everyone else, the clubhouse is deserted and I am now just waiting. Oh yes, and packing. And doing laundry that should have been done by now but of course has been left until the last minute.

What? Don’t tell me I’m the only one who does this!

Anyway, we are leaving early tomorrow morning for another SleazyJet experience, Lucerne-bound. This time Team Zambia has doubled in size – with Julia, Richard and I travelling in the morning and Jules joining us on Thursday night. We are happy, excited...all has been organised and the GB Team Manager has been kind enough to let me put my boat on their trailer over there. I had written to him out of courtesy to let him know what was happening, and to explain my reasons to him. I was very keen that he didn’t feel that I was changing to Zambia out of disgruntlement or a desire to snub anyone. Not that I think he actually particularly cares, but diplomacy has always been one of my strong points.

So, the first heat is a couple of days away. I had decided not to race at Henley Royal Regatta this year, and looking at the conditions, being a lightweight would definitely have counted against me, as I believe would have the stations. Sometimes there are funny squalls that appear when there is a cross wind, which are a result of a gust whipping over the enclosure tents along the course and then dumping onto the Berkshire station. Add to that the stream (which this year wasn’t actually a factor I don’t think) and then which side you are on can also make a difference. Which brings me to Dorney Lake....actually, let’s not. Perhaps another time.

I only went to watch the Regatta on Friday, going to the Stewards Enclosure with Jules, Dani, Julia and my handsome chap in his new blazer. It was a really odd atmosphere that day, not like previous years, and I can’t quite put my finger on why it felt strange there. Being with my special people was fabulous though, and we all put our best feet forward, which sadly can’t be said for some of the mutton that was on parade...catty, yes. True? Totally.

I was so tired from training (I have been going solid for 6 weeks since my last “adaption week” and am ready for the long-awaited Lucerne taper) that we didn’t go any other day and I’m glad we didn’t. Driving through Henley on Sunday morning for a good long paddle before racing started, the destruction and mayhem of Henley Saturday were evident. It was horrible, and makes the Regatta sometimes very unpleasant to be at. The landing stage was like a war zone, with broken glass, debris and vomit littering the Upper Thames frontage. Walking down Remenham Lane with my blades on Saturday afternoon, we got into an altercation with these (for want of a better word) Chavs who kept on grabbing them and waggling them about. One of them ended up with a blade-end in his gut after about the fourth time...I am more and more tempted to avoid it altogether next year!

However I wonder if the disappointment of the racing will be for some a huge incentive for raising their game this weekend in Lucerne. I sincerely hope so, and wish everyone who is racing huge luck.

I am now going to continue wandering around in an aimless way trying to pack and be focussed! My mad kitten, Fidel (as in Catro...yes, he does have a machine gun purr, and he will soon be Fidel Castrato, poor thing!) is racing around the house like a mad thing, sliding across the kitchen floor and, completely unable to stop himself, charging headfirst into the dishwasher, which totally captivates him every time we open the door. Evidence below...

In their honour.

It is time. The cat is out of the bag.

The entry list for the World Cup in Lucerne is now out and it is time to tell you probably the worst kept secret in history. Funny how the words “Please keep this under your hat, but.....” seem to bring people out in a cold sweat, and they are completely unable to keep whatever juicy morsel they have been told under wraps.

Anyway, I am entered, officially able to race for the country where I grew up and where my roots are still firmly in the ground. The Zambian rowing team has its first international entry since their acceptance as a new federation under FISA!

It is a difficult thing to explain to people, why I have chosen not to represent GB any more and go it alone with no funding, no free physio, travel, kit...the whole dog and pony show. However, I will spend some time formulating my thoughts and share them with you. In the meantime, it is enough just to say that I am honouring my father, my beautiful cousin Silky, my heritage and roots...and for anyone who knows Africa, the pull of the African sun, the fish eagle’s cry, the smell of rain coming, the widest, darkest sky at night and the brightest stars you have ever seen.

For my own bright stars, who I hope look down and bless my dream, Linde van Deventer and Silky van Deventer.