The Gift That Keeps on Giving: The Moment.

One experience will always tower above the others in my slalom career and there is no prize for guessing which! In London 2012, and on a few other occasions in my career, I managed to experience a clarity of mind which I think is extremely rare. Some people describe it as the 'zone', but I just think it is experiencing the present in a very vivid way, where there is no space in your mind for the usual cluttering background noise of thoughts of the past or present. Experiencing 'the moment', for me, is probably one of the most special things that happened in my career. In those moments, I felt a great freedom and I felt able to completely express all my physical, mental and emotional energy. I felt alive and incredibly powerful.

Ironically, on the most important occasions, when you want to be at your most powerful, at your clearest, it is often the case that your mind is standing in the way. The Olympics is one such important occasion. A home Games is an even rarer opportunity. To be approaching the peak of your abilities when a home Olympics is happening is precious. That makes it so much more challenging, yet so much more important to live in the present in those extraordinary times.

I can say that on the 2nd August 2012, I experienced the moment in our race runs. I was able to express everything that I was at that point. I had worked really hard to think about all the things that would pull me away from the moment around the Olympics. That meant looking into the past and trying to make peace with as much of it as possible. I thought that under the pressure of the Olympics, under that scrutiny, my regrets and guilt might come back to haunt me and so throw me off track. I thought that if I could look as far as I dared into that dark closet, then I might be able to expose some of the beasts that might burst out when I least wanted. I also looked into the future, imagining a future that started with a mediocre/poor/bad/terrible/shameful performance at the Olympics. I imagined myself having a tantrum at the bottom of the course; I imagined having a massive argument with Tim in front of curious BBC cameras; I imagined people I knew being ashamed of me. It was a liberating experience! I realised that I would probably be ok and that people who really knew me and cared for me would feel the same no matter what happened. It made me realise that perhaps all of these things might not be as bad as I imagined, and also, I think it made them actually less likely to happen as a result.

When it came to doing our runs on the day of the Olympic final, there was only what was in front of me: Tim, our boat, the line, the gates and the water. There was just an intention, coupled with a deep determination to put our boat where we had agreed to. I remember only a small amount from our run in the Semis. I was just out there doing my thing. I recall a massive, "Ooooooh", when we span out on the back straight, and a massive cheer that went up when we got back on line, but that's about it. My memories of the Final are even more obscured; I really can't remember very much at all. I have a small memory of the crowd roaring as we came towards the bottom drop, but that is it.

When we crossed the line things started getting wild! And they got wilder, and wilder, and wilder! It was like being in the middle of a whirlwind. The whole world was going bananas, and we were just us, stood there... My life went into a parallel track that day, but I suppose that's happening all the time. Lots of amazing and strange things happened to me after that, and in another world, we didn't win, and I am doing just fine too. But how could I not be grateful to the laws of chance for bringing such an unlikely scenario to vivid life?!!!

It's not just the Olympics where I have experienced 'the moment'. The first time was in selection in 1997, racing my kayak at Holme Pierrepont for a place in the Junior team. I spent a long weekend in some amazing mental space up at Grandtully for U23/ Senior selection in 2002. I went into Matrix-style bullet time at La Seu in 2008 at the end of the most miserable season of my life. Several times before and since London 2012 I managed to allow my mind to get out of its own way and just 'be'. I was so proud and happy that in my final international C2 race, the European Championships in Liptovksy this year, I managed to let the sense of occasion dissolve, freeing my skills and mind to race close to its highest height. I have had to work very hard, for a very long time, enduring great difficulties and frustrations to be able to get to that place. But to experience a freedom like that, where you are essentially free of everything, is just a great privilege and one that I must be unsure of ever encountering again, which makes it all the more precious.

One thing that I am sure of, however, is if I hold onto that memory too tightly, my mind will be dragged into the past. If I strive too hard to attain it, or re-create it, I will be being dragged into the future. Neither place is where I believe that the magic can happen: that is, right now. This exact and unique moment.