THIS YEAR WILL BE HELL – AND I CANNOT WAIT

Rower Moe Sbihi reveals how brutal training camps and deep data dives are driving him to try to win gold again

Iam not sure Stephen Hawking ever studied it, but maybe he should have done: when you are preparing for the Olympics, time becomes a flexible concept. There is no doubt that when you see we are just a year away, time puts its foot down on the accelerator. Suddenly, that announcement makes it clear it really is not far away. Up to now, you could kid yourself you have got a cushion. But from hereon in, every single day is bringing it closer. So every single day has to be perfect.

Four years ago, I was winning and everything felt right. I would never say I knew I was going to be Olympic champion, but I believed I was in the best possible position. If I am being honest, it is not like that

this time. I still hope, I still believe my levels are getting higher. But I know I have got a long way to go.

The work starts here. We are just off to Silvretta lake in the Austrian Alps for a training camp that is renowned in British rowing. This is where the British get stronger ahead of the Olympics. When I first went there, we stayed in huts, and I can tell you it was miserable: there was no way you could dry your kit; you had to share a double bed, which was always too small.

Then there is the weather. It can turn biblical: you get four seasons in a day. At the last Olympics, we were there in June and a foot of snow fell. I have had some of my darkest moments there, been miserable, not talking to crewmates, a right grumpy so-and-so. But boy, I love the place. Even in the depths of misery, some of my best memories were made there.

The new lads have lucked out for their first-ever Silvretta: they are staying in a hotel, living the plush life. I know it is helpful to pass on experience, but, if I am honest, I am wary of telling them how things used to be. It can get a bit Monty Python: in my day, you were lucky to get a bed you could fit into. Though that is also true.

And the best thing about the camp? There is nothing to do except train. In the evening, we might do a quiz. But that is it. I am the athletes’ rep and it falls on me to organise the social activity. But if I am too tired, I will forget. Anyhow, there are no nights out. We are in the middle of nowhere.

We will save nights out until after the World Championships.

While I am there, I will be going flat out. Because physically, I do not feel I am where I was four years ago. I sit on the ergo sometimes and I am looking across to someone I would have had on toast back then and now I am struggling to beat them. It is so psychological. Four years ago, I felt like I was floating on air. Now, I do not feel I am top dog any more. That is when I take rowing home and everyone suffers.

Everything is measured in rowing, so there is no hiding. If I was known as a technician and the numbers were not so good, it would not be an issue. But when everyone says you are the powerhouse and your numbers are down, then you begin to question your point. Some days I feel like a second-hand car being put through its paces on Top Gear. I can almost hear Freddie Flintoff saying this motor used to pump 115bhp, now it is struggling to make 25.

But if I am being honest, what has changed most is the fact I won last time round. Training is a constant battle. When you do not have what you want, you give everything in that battle. But now, when it is tough and the brain makes you question what you are doing, that excuse is always there: I have got a gold, do I need this?

A lot of my fellow medallists have moved on. They achieved what they set out to achieve in Rio, now they are embarked on a different course. I decided to stay on. So this is my new motivation: I want to feel I made the right choice.

When I am training, I have gone big on data. I use things like the heart-rate monitor more than I ever have to see if I am working hard enough. My wife tells me I am lazy in life, so I need to see I am working properly. We have got SAS, the analytics partner of British Rowing, and since they came on board, the way we use data has gone into overdrive. You are monitoring your body weight, fatigue levels and heart rate, and it adds layers of complexity. I like to make every session an experiment to see what the body can cope with. Analytics give you objective criteria to make the right decision.

If I did not have them, my brain would go: “Oh, this is hard, I am tired, I can’t do it.” The figures say: “No, you can cope with this, crack on.” I use it as positively as possible.

I know it is not yet time to start picturing being on the podium. But occasionally you cannot help thinking it would be cool. I always like the moment they release the medal. I imagine feeling it in my hand. That adds another layer to your visions. But then I have to tell myself, it is all about getting there. And we are not just doing it for us, it is for the coaches, the staff, the people who have put life on hold.

We want to own the boat park in Tokyo. What is in my mind right now is not the podium; it is imagining the feeling you get when the coach taps you on the shoulder and says you are selected. Right now, that is what is driving me on.