Great Britain’s PR1 men’s single sculler, Benjamin Pritchard, on his journey to the Paris 2024 Paralympic Games.

Eight years ago, when I was in Stoke Mandeville hospital watching the Rio 2016 Games, I set myself the goal of winning a Paralympic gold medal in 2024. That goal has become a reality.

In Tokyo the enormity of being at a Games four years after my accident hit me emotionally. I think that’s why I didn’t perform to my best in Tokyo.

I came back from Tokyo with a Paralympic record but a fifth place finish. I was despondent with the sport because of changes to regulations and rules around strapping, which made the category accessible for new athletes competing with disabilities I hadn’t seen before.

The rest of the British Tokyo team had won gold medals so it was a lonely flight home. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue. Perhaps I should find another sport that’s better suited to my skillset and my disability?

In the PR1 field Great Britain seemed to be missing the mark. Our last world championship gold was won in 2011, and the last Paralympic title was in 2008 in Beijing. We’ve not been on the top step since, but the other British boats have never been off it. What’s going wrong?

I laid out my areas of concern and I identified areas to improve. Our approach to training wasn’t optimal for a PR1 sculler, and there were gains to be made in the boat design, especially the weight of the seat. The other area to improve was the athlete themself – me and my body.

I sat down with British Rowing and asked the hard questions. How are you doing it so right in the other boats but not in this one? Was it athlete selection, classification, equipment or boat setup? What will it take to win?

British Rowing agreed: cut your off-season short, buy-in, improve your resilience to training, and we will get the boat to the minimum weight and improve the seat. Deal. I predicted the gold medal time for Paris and worked backwards from there. I needed to improve by 0.3 seconds per quarter over the next three years. That was my aim: incremental performance increases all the way to Paris.

Making it a three year project gave me a psychological release. Selection worries floated away (well, almost). Before Tokyo I would chop chunks off my times, but then I’d stagnate. This cycle I didn’t chase those big jumps but tried to make steady progress. Small steps every day, that was the tagline.

It became my project. I felt like I had ownership, autonomy and decision-making power. I worked collaboratively with UK Sport, British Rowing, and my coaching team. We called the project, ‘Hashtag Sub Nine’, but that was blown out of the water when Giacomo Perini and Roman Polianskyi broke the nine-minute mark.

The other thing I realised was that everything in my life was rowing, it was too much. Don’t get me wrong, to win a Paralympic gold medal it has to be. But after Tokyo I got involved in coffee in a big way and I worked for my local radio station. These outlets have helped me to switch off and escape the pressure cooker of Caversham.

During the run up to Paris my coach told me it was the most focused he’d ever seen me, but also the calmest. I used to get too focused and too emotional, but at Paris I was level-headed and ready to race.

The magic of being at the Paris Paralympics didn’t hit me at first, whereas in 2021 I was dwarfed by the momentousness of it all. Tokyo felt like a complete whirlwind: I’d made it to my first Games just four years after my accident, and I was super excited to become a Paralympian. In Paris it was all about the process, I was entirely focused on getting the job done.

In the days leading up to my first race I made a conscious effort to stop and take it all in. I wanted to get my reference points along the course and visualise what was to come. From the water I looked up at these massive, empty grandstands lining the bank. I tried to imagine how loud it would be when they were packed with people.

Two hours before my first race I was doing a warm-up row. From the bank I suddenly heard a lone GB supporter shouting my name and trying to get my attention. I thought, ‘Is this for real?’ I tried to ignore it and stay focused but it was gut wrenching, my stomach knotted, and all my pre-race nerves took flight: ‘This is huge!’ You do all that psychology preparation but we’re only human. Once I’d got that out of the way, I was okay.

Another moment when it hit me was 200 metres before the finish of my heat. It was stormy and chucking it down with rain. I was in the lead and the crowds were roaring. Just before I crossed the line there was this incredible lightning strike. ‘This is so cool!’ What a spectacle. That’s when the circus of the Games landed.

Minutes later I’m changing a dirty nappy. I’d won the heat and broken the Paralympic record by 11 seconds, then wheeled around to meet Megs, my wife, and my daughter Efa. I’m full of emotions after what’s just happened. Megs is coming the other way full of different emotions. Boom! I get handed this baby with a poopy nappy. My family will always keep me humble; and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Megs was stressed because it was still teeming down with rain and there was no baby changing facilities. A security guard suggested changing her on the soaking wet, filthy floor. Are you joking!? She’d been looking after Efa for thirty days without me at this point.

After the heat I let myself dream of winning gold. For months my psychologist had tried to make me believe I could win the Paralympics. To be honest I never quite got to that point. We settled on: ‘I will be in the fight’. In our last meeting, four days before I flew, I believed I was ready to be in the fight for a gold medal.

For the most part my mindset was very calm. ‘I’m ready’, that’s what I kept thinking, I even wrote it in my diary. Meg asked, how was I so confident? But I just knew. If I won the gold medal, fantastic. If I didn’t then the other two ‘sub 9’ athletes, Giacomo Perini and Roman Polianskyi, would have to have the race of their lives to beat me. That’s what I meant when I said I was ready. I knew I was there or thereabouts for a medal of some description.

I haven’t watched the final back yet, but 500 metres in I absolutely knew I was going to win. After the start the Italian came through me but normally the Ukrainian does too. He wasn’t gaining ground. I thought, ‘If he’s not rowing through me I’m going to win this race’. At the 1000 metres I broke the Italian. ‘Wow, this is happening! Stay on plan’. Keep racing.

Your mind plays tricks with you when you’re leading a Paralympic final. A part of you wants to play it safe. ‘Don’t lose gold,’ looped in my head. I tried to stay process-focused and stick to my plan. I talked to myself every ten strokes and I kept conscious of my movements. I kept pushing. I didn’t want to play it safe. I was willing to risk it all to have the race of my life.

Winning felt like a massive release of pressure. I cheered and screamed and hollered so much at the finish. All this pressure came off me. I am my biggest critic, and I am my biggest applier of pressure. In that moment I let it all out, it was a huge sigh of relief. All the sacrifices my family and I have made, they were all worth it. In that moment I felt validated. Validation for everything I’ve done to get myself there. It’s not been easy.

Eight years ago, on the 10th of September 2016, I had my accident. Now I’m a Paralympic champion. I climbed from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs. It has been an intense eight year journey. That’s what that celebration across the line was all about, closing that chapter.

‘Let’s just get straight to the pontoon before somebody says no!’ There was a palaver in my race. At the finish I could hear shouts for an appeal. People on the safety boat were shouting to the umpire to say that the Australian had his hand up. It was only later when Eric Horrie came into the podium tent that I realised Perini wouldn’t be there.

Perini messaged me later to say he didn’t have his phone in his boat and I’ve had messages from Italian fans saying that it’s unfair. And you’ve got the Australian side of the story too. I don’t want this controversy to detract from the race. A lot of the press said Perini was disqualified, but not that he was disqualified from third place. It’s an important distinction.

Should somebody lose a bronze medal in that way? I’m chuffed for Eric but I feel for Giacomo. On the face of it he seems to have lacked judgement on the biggest stage. As a sports fan it’s heartbreaking to watch anyone lose a medal because of an appeal, but the rules exist for a reason. It was Australia’s right to appeal and World Rowing have investigated and that’s the result.

After the race I got out of my boat and was struck by the noise of the crowd. The awkwardness of it all surprised me. I had to transfer into my wheelchair in front of 22,000 spectators and then wheel past them to get to the tent. People were looking at me and shouting my name. So awkward!

The podium tent didn’t offer much salvation. It’s a weird scenario: three medallists getting changed together in a tent, still sweating from the race. My disability means I can’t thermoregulate so I was dripping with sweat and the podium-wear tracksuit kept sticking to me.

Waiting outside in the holding pen, I saw our double row through the Chinese. Immediately I pushed by security to get a better view and started cheering them, all the while getting told off by the volunteers. When they won I felt so much pride and elation.

On the podium the emotions really hit. Funny, isn’t it? In a crowd of 22,000 you wouldn’t think you’d be able to pick people out, but in those moments I had heat-seeking eyes. I saw Meg and Efa; my mum and dad; my brothers, and my aunty and cousins; my uni friends and their kids; I saw everyone that I knew was coming. It was a lot to take in.

Receiving my medal from Rosie Mayglothling, the head of the Fairness Committee, was a lovely moment. Frida Svensson, the Chair of the Athlete Commission, who I work closely with, handed me my Phryge. I had to hug her because I was about to burst into sobs.

I won my first international gold medal in Poznan this year, but they don’t play your national anthem at world cups. So, to have that moment of watching the Union Jack rising the highest, while singing the national anthem with pride for our majesty the King, that will stay with me forever.

Then it was off to do media. And once I got through media, I had a 20-minute window to see my friends and family. Trying to get to the back of the grandstands with a gold medal around your neck is a herculean effort: You just get mobbed. There were a lot of photos with rowing supporters and the general public. Eventually I got to my family and I was surprised to see John Cook.

John and I were in Stoke Mandeville hospital together after I had my accident. We both did rowing as a way to keep fit. I hated it. I kept complaining about it. John told me the physios kept the scores on the back of the door like a leader board. If it wasn’t for that comment I don’t think I’d have been in Paris. It drove me to get faster at rowing.

So many people had spent their hard earned money in a cost of living crisis to come and celebrate with me, and celebrate Para sport. 1.75 million tickets were sold for Paralympic sport. It shows there is a demand for it. We’re very lucky in rowing because we are fully integrated, but more International Federations need to follow suit

After the regatta I enjoyed the circus of the Games. I loved it. I became a super fan. I watched all these different sports. The fencing was in the Grand Palais and the noise was incredible. I tell you it gave me goosebumps, the beauty of it all, a beautiful sport in a beautiful building. I was enamoured by it, completely sucked in. Fencing is different to what we do. It’s less about the physicality and more about remaining calm, cool and composed. It’s incredibly technical too.

As a proud Welshman, I’m sure it’s no surprise to learn that I’m a massive rugby fan, so going to the Stade de France was great. Wow, what a coliseum! That’s all I can describe it as. Two of my friends competed there, one in the discus and another on the track. I was their biggest hype man.

Paris did well. I’ve still not fully digested it all. It is truly surreal.

This article first appeared in Issue 55

Issue 55

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