Image credit: World Rowing
Just like that, the Games are here. This has been a lifetime of preparation. After all the months and years, the pressure and dreams are unfolding before your eyes. The preceding weeks, away on training camps with just your team, have been the last moments of solace from the chaos that’s about to begin.
You may have watched your friends and club mates competing at Henley, itching for your chance to get racing, but now that it’s here you might start to feel like you need more time to prepare, that you aren’t ready yet. Now is the moment when you have to trust in everything that you have done to get you to this point; the programme, the hours you have put in and believe that you are in fact, ready.
I remember leaving my last training camp, with just a day or two at home before flying to Rio. The temptation to fill this with seeing everyone who wants to see you off is tempting, but in reality, it’s just enough time to pack your bags (once again wondering how you are going to fit all this kit in) and take a breath before heading to the airport again.
When you turn up to fly with the many bags, dressed in your designated travel outfit, all blazoned with the Olympic Rings, suddenly you feel like the general public looks at you differently. Then as you land, being wished good luck by the flight crew, the enormity of what you are about to do can threaten to engulf you. It is now when you must remember again why you are here, what you want to achieve, and the processes that will get you there.
However, it is important that you enjoy and savour this amazing opportunity. What struck me most on arrival in Rio de Janeiro were all the little touches that Team GB had put in place to make us feel special and at home. From union flag pillows in our lounge areas to Team GB dressing gowns left on our beds, as soon as you arrived you immediately felt taken care of and integrated into the wider British team.
One of the most important discussions we had before leaving for Rio was about how we all felt like we would act as the pressure of upcoming racing built. We spent a lot of time working on our communication, which included understanding how each other would react as the stress increased, so we could continue to support and get the best out of each other.
For example, we all felt very differently about how much we wanted to watch other sports during our competition week. In some rooms, putting the Olympics on was banned, as people wanted to be able to completely get away from it all between sessions. In my room, myself and roommate Jess Eddie (my boat’s five-seat, and three-time Olympian), relaxed by taking in anything we could. We had BBC coverage running constantly and were quickly armchair experts in everything from badminton to synchronised swimming.
Whilst the circus continues away from the lake, the best thing about rowing is that as soon as you enter the venue you are immediately stepping into your normal. It is the same feeling as any World Cup or Championship event. If anything, it’s quieter, calmer, and less hectic, as fewer crews are competing.
For me, this allowed me a chance to focus back in on those processes and what I needed to do to ensure we put in our best performance over race week, unencumbered by the bigger Olympic expectations.
As the last few days approach before racing begins, you are still trying to squeeze out every second and every inch from the boat. I was also personally conscious that these were my last outings as a professional athlete, as I knew I was retiring after the Games.
I tried my best to soak in the feeling during each outing – the sensation of the boat flying, the banter of my crew, the bond and relationship we had built together.
I remember sitting on the start line before doing practice pieces, looking at Zoe Lee sitting in the stroke seat, and then turning around and seeing the iconic Christ the Redeemer statue gazing down on us. I think back to one of our last outings, in the rain, one of the only boats on the lake. We felt like we owned the Lagoa at that moment. We passed the grandstand where someone had set up a wet weather-themed playlist (think ‘It’s Raining Men’ and ‘Umbrella’)and we all laughed.
What made my Rio boat special was the trust and belief we had in each other and in what we had done to get ourselves to the start line as a crew. We were also aware of the history we carried into the Games. A GB women’s eight had never medalled at the Olympics and we felt that we were able to stand on the shoulders of all the women who had come before us and allowed us to get to this point. Now there was nothing left to do but race.
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