Ten years ago I pressed “publish” on my very first Girl on the River post, and I don’t think it’s overdramatic to say that in that moment, my life changed. In August 2011, I was very new to the sport. My rowing was extremely scrappy. My kit was extremely shiny. I was a novice in every sense of the word. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if rowing and I were in a long-term relationship (we certainly weren’t exclusive).

I was also a complete nobody in the rowing world. As a pint-sized, 40-something novice in a sport for giants, at a small provincial club, with dodgy health and a history of being useless at all forms of exercise, the prognosis wasn’t good for my rowing career.

And yet 10 years on, I’m still here. Against all the odds, I’ve carried on rowing, even occasionally winning stuff. I’ve competed at the World Masters Regatta and in events overseas. I’ve rowed through chemo. I’ve discovered coxing isn’t second best. I’ve even qualified as an indoor rowing coach and led Zoom Ergos sessions.

Meanwhile, the blog has expanded into a podcast. I’ve formed amazing friendships with rowers around the world. I’ve interviewed Olympians, Paralympians and Atlantic rowers. And life without this ridiculous, wonderful, maddening, beautiful sport seems unthinkable.

To my immense surprise, rowing turned out to be a keeper. And even more surprisingly, so did I.

There’s no doubt that Girl on the River played a big part in this. In those moments when I’d lost yet another race, when I was exhausted, demoralised, deflated, when my confidence had abandoned me and I was on the point of quitting, I’d realise that I couldn’t. I had a blog post to write. And the latest drama would almost certainly be the basis for the next post.

So on I carried, through all the ups and downs that you guys have seen me through.

Needless to say, quite a lot has changed in those 10 years (and not just my rowing technique). Rowing is gradually starting to wake up to the pressing need to be more accessible and diverse. We’re starting to acknowledge some of the invisible barriers to our sport and I’m hoping we’ll see more and more steps being taken to pull them down. And as our rivers deteriorate in quality, clubs and rowing events are becoming more eco-friendly.

Yet for all the changes, one thing has remained the same and that’s the warmth I’ve experienced within the rowing community. Sure, we’re not perfect – not by a long way. There are grumpy old men, bloody-minded individuals and awkward customers. There’s a long way to go in achieving the diversity and accessibility that we should be offering.

But there are also unbelievably kind and generous people out there who you can always rely on in a crisis, who’ll go the extra mile for you, and who have kept me going through some of the toughest years of my life. If you ever want a badass in your corner, make sure it’s a rower.

And as for the next 10 years? Well, I’m not really going to make too many plans. If I’ve learned one thing from the last decade, it’s that anything can happen. So all I’ll say for now is a heartfelt thank you to every single person who has read the blog, listened to the podcast, commented, tweeted, liked, challenged, laughed along and shared the ride. You’re all amazing, every last one of you.