SAILING HANNAH

The last few days/ weeks have been… a lot.
Conferences, meetings, events, flights, late-night emails, and more conversations about rules, data, and compliance than I ever thought possible. Somewhere in there, I’ve had to remind myself that all of this – the noise, the pressure, the stress, is still part of building something that matters. I chose this fight. I chose to serve the sailors and this community.

I’ll be honest – I’m overwhelmed. I’m carrying a huge load right now, and there are nights when I sit alone in a hotel room, staring at my laptop long after everyone else has gone to bed, trying to keep all the moving pieces together. It’s not glamorous. It’s not tidy. But it’s the reality of trying to move an entire system forward – often with too few hands, too little time, and far too many expectations.

Working with volunteers adds another layer. These are passionate, dedicated people giving their time and expertise because they care. But that passion sometimes collides with pressure, and it’s easy to forget that we’re all aiming for the same goal. We might come from different backgrounds and perspectives, but our shared mission – to make sailing truly inclusive – should always anchor us. Because if we’re not pulling in the same direction, if we let ego, frustration, or old habits creep in, we make it harder on ourselves and the sailors we’re here to serve.

And yes, sometimes I get frustrated too. I sent calls to action back in May to get work started that we’re only just doing now. It’s nobody’s favourite admission, but the truth is those delays don’t make the work disappear – they just push it into evenings, weekends, and hotel-room nights. That weight lands on people already running at full speed.

Then last night hit harder than I expected. A few words – personal where they should have been professional were said, and they caught me off guard. They hurt. I don’t mind disagreement; it’s part of progress. One of my coaches used to say, “The only person who likes change is a baby with a dirty nappy.” But dragging up the past and turning it into a weapon helps no one. It was a sharp reminder that beneath the titles and deadlines, we’re all still human – and sometimes people forget that.

But here’s the thing: I still believe in this work. I still believe in the people behind it. Even when the noise gets loud and the hours get long, I know why I’m doing it. Because every small step forward; every new sailor, every inclusive event, every breakthrough in collaboration reminds me that this fight is worth it.

So if I’ve been short, distracted, or slower to reply lately, know that it’s not from a lack of care. Quite the opposite – it’s because I care too much to let things slide. I’m trying, truly, to keep this sport and its people moving forward, even when the tide feels against us.

To everyone out there giving their time, energy, and belief – thank you. We won’t always get it right, but we’ll keep trying. Together.

Because this movement – Para and Inclusive Sailing, is bigger than any of us. And it’s worth every ounce of effort we’ve got left.

Hannah