Invictus Training

I was privileged to work with injured servicemen and women taking part in Invictus Games archery training at Stoke Mandeville Hospital and Lilleshall. Having previously coached a wheelchair archer and Invictus Games competitor back in 2014 — David Hubber, who went on to win at the Games — I was in good stead when, in November 2016, I was asked if I could coach another Invictus hopeful.

This was my first paid role as an Archery GB coach, and to be honest, I was nervous. Walking into a room full of squaddies (I’ll call them that, because at the time I didn’t know their ranks, ages, or serial numbers — just that they were loud and lively!) was quite an experience. I wasn’t sure if they’d take me seriously as a coach or have a bit of fun at my expense. It felt a bit like walking into a classroom full of teenagers at first — noisy, rowdy, full of energy.

But it didn’t take long for things to settle down. Soon, one or two people started taking the lead, helping others warm up and get organised. It was fantastic to see — a band of brothers and sisters working together, Army, Navy, and RAF side by side. As a civilian, I half expected to see them split into groups by service, but instead there was just teamwork and mutual support.

Some of them had been to previous Games or training trials, so they knew what to expect. They helped others settle in, offered advice, and supported the coaches by explaining the physical and mental challenges that each person faced. Many were dealing with PTSD, something you can’t see but which affects so many injured servicemen and women.

Although I’m a civilian, I have a small understanding of service life — my brother-in-law is in the Army, and my sister has followed him all over the world. We’ve spent holidays visiting them in places like Cyprus and Germany, so I’ve had a glimpse of military life. I shared this with the group, and I think being open and honest helped me gain their trust. I knew I’d been accepted when one of them asked if I wanted a coffee — that simple gesture meant a lot.

Over the next few months, I worked with them three or four times before the trials in Bath. I set up a spreadsheet (with their permission) to keep track of everyone’s details — injuries, training time, family commitments, hospital appointments, shooting frequency, equipment, previous Invictus or Warrior Games experience, and so on. This helped me plan their training and give each archer a verbal programme tailored to their needs.

Some archers were more advanced than others, and a few thought they already knew it all! But most were eager to learn. I found that video feedback on the iPad worked wonders — it helped them see what I was seeing, and that made a real difference.

As the selection process continued, the number of archers — and coaches — was reduced. Unfortunately, I was one of those let go. Still, I kept following their progress and continued to offer advice and encouragement from afar. I even travelled to Bath to watch the selection shoot and support the team.

At one event, later that year I was stopped by one of the competitors. She said, “I’ve got something for you — if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have it.” Then she handed me her gold medal.

That moment was truly humbling. It reminded me exactly why I coach — to help people achieve something they never thought they could.