For ten years I’ve dreamt of winning the Olympics. Ten years of willing myself forward with positive affirmations, self talk, and goal-setting not to mention millions of strokes on the water. You’d have thought I’d be ready for the dream to become a reality. I wasn’t.
Photo Sholto Carnegie
Credit Benedict Tufnell
Despite countless hours of physical and mental preparation I’d never given much thought to what it would actually be like to win: I wasn’t ready for the emotional overload that followed. When I won my gold medal in Paris I could barely believe it, I kept pinching myself. Had the nine of us really just become Olympic Champions?
It may sound strange but having achieved my dream I was left only in total disbelief. As if my inner child, the skinny 14-year-old kid who first dreamt of gold refused to accept it that it had been done. Fait accompli. Only now, writing this article two months after crossing the finish line, do I begin to notice a growing sense of inner peace. I’m still processing the emotions; it’s been quite the journey.
After years of training the final stint of physical preparation came in the form of two exhausting training camps. The first was at Silvretta in Austria, a high-altitude training camp which the British men have been visiting for the last 25 years. It’s tough but productive, a work camp with a golden history. This was followed by a warm weather prep camp in Avis, Portugal.
My crew, the GB men’s eight, built a lot of momentum on these camps; the guys were gelling well together and we were hitting good speeds. Sure there were a few bumps along the road such as some last-minute Covid cases but the team was strong and we met each challenge head on.
Training through these final prep camps is like walking a tight rope, you are constantly balancing the need and desire to push forward your fitness against the risk of overdoing it and crashing into the overtraining zone. With high mileage training it’s about finding the right intensity, one that works for you, this comes with experience. By the end of Avis I felt the strongest I had ever been, the preparation had worked it was time to race.
We tried to use the other crews as inspiration and learning opportunities to prepare us for when it was our time to take centre stage. The final of the men’s eights was one of the last races of the Olympic regatta which allowed us to watch and learn from all the crazy racing in the events before ours. From photo finishes to game changing mid-race pushes, it was clear that crews were stepping up their performances throughout the regatta. Our crew has always believed we could win every race we enter but still knew if we didn’t deliver our best we could be beaten. It was this hunger and fire that fuelled our consistent success. Come the medal race, we knew nothing but our best performance would be good enough.
“The ambulances will be waiting at the finish line, go out there and take what’s yours”
Sholto Carnegie
On the flip side, being one of the last races of the Olympics is mentally tough. You see all the hype and spectacle, and witness the highs and lows of teammates winning Olympic medals and those who miss out by a matter of inches. As much as I was aware of it all, I didn’t let myself get distracted or sucked into other crews’ emotional journeys. I had to be selfish and focus on getting myself mentally prepared for the battle ahead.
Much of the Olympic games as an athlete isn’t as glamorous as it looks on social media. I spent hours in my room watching Netflix, resting and getting my body ready to race. During this time the mind plays tricks on you, there’s endless thinking and worrying about every outcome. The nerves build and the mind tries to find ways to derail you. It tries to tell you that you have a slight niggle, it tells you don’t do this to yourself it’s too much pressure, it’s too much pain. You worry about all the friends and family that have come to support you, and you worry you might let them down. You fear that you have experienced Olympic disappointment before and you do not want to feel that pain again.
In these times the skill lies in calming your mind, zoning everything else out and focusing on your simple job. Being an experienced athlete you know that these thoughts and feelings are natural and everyone is going through something similar. I use a lot of self-talk to compartmentalize these emotions and double down on doing my job and bringing good energy to the crew.
In the days leading up to the Olympic final, time starts moving very fast. It was a tense period but we all leaned in and relied on each other for support. The trust in our crew started to work for us. I have a clear memory immediately after finishing racing in Tokyo (after coming in a bitterly disappointing fourth place) sitting behind a portacabin crying to myself, shocked and disappointed like never before. I remember thinking I’d do anything to have that pre-race opportunity back, to rewind time and fight for an Olympic medal. I couldn’t rewind time but three years later I was approaching my second Olympics, a more mature athlete ready to embrace the pressure of an Olympic final once again. This time I wasn’t going to let myself slip into autopilot. I was determined to rise to the occasion and race my best ever race.
In the days before my Olympic final in Paris, I reminded myself of that portacabin scene in Tokyo. I told myself that these brief periods in time before a big race are tense but worth embracing and – if possible – enjoying. I started to feel ready to race, I was prepared for the fight, and I was not going to give anyone an inch.
“I’m still processing the emotions; it’s been quite the journey.”
Sholto Carnegie
A few days before the final we received a heartfelt message from the 2000 British men’s eight who won gold in Sydney. Each crew member sent a short message to Steve Trapmore, our coach and their strokeman, he compiled the messages into a 15-minute video and shared it with us. There were a lot of similarities between the two crews, both had a chip-on-the-shoulder mentality and a point to prove. The quote that resonated with me the most was, “the ambulances will be waiting at the finish line, go out there and take what’s yours”. This made me realize we had done all the physical and technical hard work but now the job was a mental one, we had to get out of the blocks with complete conviction and maximum aggression.
After the video message, we went around the room and said what the Olympics and this crew meant to us. I won’t go into individual details but there were tears from everyone. We left that meeting knowing that everyone was prepared to give everything to the crew. We had complete trust. We were ready for anything.
During the race I felt strong and I dialled into what our cox, Harry Brightmore, was saying. It was a plan we’d rehearsed many times. At the halfway marker I said to myself just push your legs down as damn hard as you can. I did and I felt stronger for it. I kept repeating that message to myself all the way down the course. As the finish got closer it would have been easy to get drawn into what the end outcome might be, but I shut that out, I’d seen too many leading crews and get rowed down in the dying moments. I was only focused on my job – support the crew rhythm and push my legs as hard as I possibly could.
Thinking back I’d love to have that moment again, midway through the Olympic final with the crew firing on all cylinders. We were a big machine, every cog working at full capacity. Sadly the moment is finite, special and perfect, forever crystallised in time. I can’t get it back. So now I pause, look back and reflect on everything that made the moment, before figuring out a new way to work towards the next moment like it. Onwards!
