91Èȱ¬

At the Beijing Olympics, was very strictly accredited for security reasons so the only area to mix with supporters was in a tent called the "Kiss and Cry Zone". No joke, that's what it was called in the five or so languages that every piece of writing in the Olympics is translated into.

And I found that quite poignant. Everything that my parents, family and friends had done for me through the years in support of my rowing, all the talking and tea-drinking and celebrating or consoling, came down to that tent. They would be there just to have a kiss and cry when it was all over.

The majority of my family live down in Cornwall so I rarely get to see them as for 99% of the time I'm chained to the River Thames. Consequently, I rely very heavily on my friendship group in London.

Most of my mates I've known since we were all at Downing College, Cambridge, and most of them I met through the when we were all racing college bumps on the Cam. I'm fortunate enough that they all love to come out to various European or Chinese lakes to watch me race - although I'm under no illusions that this is anything more than an excuse for a boozy weekend away.

Annabel (bottom, second from right) and partner Anna Bebington had strong support at the 2009 World Championships in Poland

Being a full-time international athlete is a rather peculiar life. I'm abroad a huge amount of time and spend most of my life in a state of extreme fatigue and pressure.

Therefore, I can't always be a very good friend. People talk about commitment, single-minded focus and determination; but what this translates into a lot of the time is that I just have to be rather selfish. I have to miss birthday parties and weddings; I can't go on communal holidays; I'm rarely available for a spontaneous night out or weekend away.

Hopefully, my friends will remember that I'm only an athlete for eight to 10 years, they won't ask too much of me and will wait for me to be normal again. They won't expect more of me than I can give, and won't demand anything that compromises my unique lifestyle and strange obsession with moving a boat backwards through the water.

Yet having a large group of friends and family who are integral to your pathway to Olympic success also brings its own kind of pressure. It's a fairly frequent lament, that an athlete who fails to achieve a certain result will feel like he or she has "let everyone down".

And I think the increasing levels of expectation that will come from having a home Olympics will add to this. I certainly felt a higher amount of pressure from having so many of my family and friends on the bank in 2006, when the .

My support networks are there for me every day of the year to help me along the road; but when I push out into the lake for the Olympic regatta in July 2012, I'll be on my own and will live and die by what I do on that day.