SAILING HANNAH

A perfectly normal day running the World Sailing Inclusion Championships

From the outside, running an international sailing championship looks fairly straightforward.

Boats on the water, athletes doing incredible things, opening ceremonies, podium photos and inspiring speeches.

And sometimes it really is that simple.

But if you ever want to understand what it actually takes to run an event like the World Sailing Inclusion Championships, allow me to explain how, in the space of a single race day, we managed to lose an RS Venture Connect, briefly misplace a prosthetic limb, spend several hours in a workshop that had nothing to do with racing, and still somehow get all the fleets onto the water.

This is a perfectly normal day as an Event Director.

05:30 – Alarm goes off.
Racing is scheduled to start at 10:00.

05:31 – Briefly question the life choices that led to designing an entirely new international championship.

05:32 – Remember that when the World Sailing Inclusion Championships were first created, you were technically only meant to be the TD.

05:33 – Reflect briefly on how you have somehow become the Event Director as well.

05:34 – Accept that you are now also logistics coordinator, problem solver, spare pair of hands, unofficial medic and part-time rib driver.

05:45 – Coffee.

06:30 – Leo appears, calm as ever, quietly fixing three problems before anyone else has realised they exist (all whilst wearing white linen – not WS issue).

06:35 – Hannah2 arrives with the energy of someone who knows today will absolutely involve chaos. She has snacks.

07:00 –  We’re already moving boats, organising hoists and generally making the entire operation look far more professional than it probably deserves.

07:30 – Stoggs (PRO) begins the day’s ritual of staring thoughtfully at the sea while everyone asks him questions about the wind.

08:00 – Coach Simon is already with the sailors, quietly keeping everyone focused while the rest of us attempt to make the circus function.

08:30 – Someone asks where the spare parts are.

08:31 – Nobody knows where the spare parts are.

08:45 – Matt appears with a logistical question that requires three radios, two spreadsheets and a brief moment of existential reflection.

09:00 – The wind has decided not to attend today’s racing.

09:05 – Race officials begin discussing the wind’s absence in extremely serious technical language.

09:10 – One race official asks a question so profoundly confusing that several people simply stare silently into the middle distance.

09:20 – Someone announces that a boat is missing.

09:21 – Not just any boat.

09:22 – An entire RS Venture Connect.

09:23 – Nobody can quite explain how you lose an entire boat.

09:30 – Second coffee.

09:40 – The boats been found on a different pontoon – it must have moved itself in the night?

10:00 – Racing was meant to start now.

10:01 – It has not.

10:30 – Someone reports that a sailor may have lost a leg.

10:31 – After a brief moment of panic it becomes clear they are referring to a prosthetic limb, not an actual human limb.

10:32 – Collective relief.

11:00 – Athlete briefing where everything sounds calm, organised and entirely under control.

11:01 – Behind the scenes: absolute chaos.

11:30 – Someone remembers that a “climate workshop” has been scheduled.

11:31 – Nobody is entirely sure why it has been scheduled at this exact moment in the middle of a race day.

11:32 – Several sailors attend politely while quietly wondering if perhaps wind and racing might be slightly more relevant to their immediate plans.

12:45 – The workshop concludes having successfully used a great deal of time.

12:46 – Racing is still waiting for wind.

12:47 – Stoggs breaks a chair on the pontoon. No questions are asked, and we absolutely did not retrieve the broken parts to later award him with.

12:48 – Where is the delta flag???

13:00 – The fleets finally launch.

For a moment everything goes quiet.

Boats spread across the water.
Sails up.
Sailors doing what they came here to do.

And suddenly all the early mornings, the logistics, the missing equipment and the endless cups of coffee make sense.

18:00 – Boats return, sailors are smiling, racing has happened, and somehow the entire circus has worked.

18:30 – Debrief.

19:00 – Sailors Forum.

20:30 – Protest hearing.

23:45 – Someone asks a question that could probably have been answered in 2003. Why do results take this long to process?

00:15 – More coffee.

00:30 – Finally leave the venue.

00:31 – Wonder briefly if you have forgotten something important.

00:32 – Realise you definitely have.

Because running an international championship often looks like chaos from the outside.

Boats go missing.
A prosthetic limb briefly goes missing before being reunited with its owner.
Schedules shift.
Workshops appear in the middle of race days.
And the wind occasionally refuses to cooperate entirely.

But behind all of that is something much more important.

A community of people working together to make the sport better.

Sailors from different classes, backgrounds and experiences sharing the same start line.
Teams stepping in to make things possible.
A sport learning that it grows stronger when everyone belongs on the water.

And when the fleet finally spreads out across the course, sails up and racing together, all the chaos suddenly makes sense.

This is Para Inclusive sailing.