SAILING HANNAH

I’ve just come back from the World Sailing Annual Conference in Ireland – a week that felt like standing in the middle of a storm while still trying to steer the boat forward. And somehow, despite the chaos, the exhaustion, and everything life has thrown at me recently, it ended up being one of the most grounding and clarifying weeks I’ve had in a long time.

The truth is, I walked into those meetings already stretched thin. I’ve been juggling more than most people ever see: the classification overhaul, governance reform, the Paralympic sport programme submission, calendars, events, politics, IDP planning, the constant push to keep Para and inclusive sailing moving forward. And all of this while holding a family bereavement quietly in my chest, trying to keep going when part of me wanted nothing more than to stop.

But here’s what surprised me: people finally saw it.

For the first time, colleagues looked past the outcomes and into the engine room. They saw the hours, the fight, the conviction, the sleepless nights. They understood – really understood, how much of this programme stays afloat because I refuse to let it sink. People pulled me aside to say it. To thank me. To acknowledge the load.

That lands differently when you’re running on empty. It reminds you why you keep showing up.

And the PWSC meeting? Honestly, it was a rare and very welcome win. Constructive, positive, supportive. The proposals I’ve been grinding away at for months didn’t just pass – they landed without a fight. People backed them. People backed me. They recognised the graft behind every clause and every timeline. That alone made the whole week feel worth it.

The IDP workshop was another bright spot – the energy, the engagement, the genuine belief in what we’re building. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive. People left that room motivated, aligned, and excited about what inclusive sailing can look like when we dare to think bigger. And that, right there, is why this job matters. It changes people. It opens doors. It makes space where space didn’t exist.

But let’s be real: the road hasn’t magically smoothed out. The IPC deadlines are still brutal. The governance questions are still stacked high. The work is colossal. And doing all of this while navigating grief has stretched me to the edge more times than I’d like to admit. Some days I’ve been held together by grit and nothing else.

Which is exactly why I need to say this:

Leo – thank you. You held the fort, kept everything moving, and caught the pieces I simply couldn’t. I genuinely couldn’t ask for a better second set of hands (even remotely).
Stogg – your straight talking and your unwavering support kept me grounded when I felt like I was splitting in ten directions.
Dan – your backing and your mentorship have mattered more than you know.
Emma, Daniel, Henriette, Katrina, Larisa, Rebecca, Jazz – thank you for checking in, lifting me up, and giving me the space and strength to keep fighting.
And to everyone else who quietly had my back this week: you helped more than you realise.

Ireland wasn’t easy. It wasn’t gentle. But it was a turning point.

People finally saw the depth of the work. The intent. The fire. They saw that Para and Inclusive Sailing isn’t just “continuing along” – it’s being driven forward, inch by inch, conversation by conversation, IDP by IDP, late night by late night.

I came home exhausted. But I also came home steadier. Stronger. And more certain than ever why this fight is worth it.

The work isn’t done. Not even close – but the momentum is real. And forward truly is forward, even on the days I have to drag it.

Onwards. Always.