Mallory Franklin is far too polite to name the individual who delivered disparaging remarks about the expansion of women’s canoeing in the Olympics. She is perfectly happy to articulate the response, though.
“Eilidh Gibson [a British international canoeist] wrote me a letter off the back of a few negative comments that had been made by someone who used to be in the canoeing community,” Franklin explains. “When I read that letter, it hit me; what people see in me. It made me understand what it meant to her that I am doing this. I wanted to do this for all of the C1 women.”
Franklin is regarded as a pioneer, with the C1 female class in which she competes being included in the Games for the first time as part of a drive towards Olympic gender equality. She has been integral to the evolution of this discipline, once only the domain of men, since childhood. Franklin is seeking to break the mould; among female athletes only Helen Reeves has won an Olympic medal in canoeing for Great Britain.
“Women generally have had less opportunity,” Franklin says. “There is a lot of history surrounding this. I am appreciative that I am able to be the person creating that history, even if it doesn’t actually change my job.
“When C1 first came in, around 2009/10, there was a fair bit of negativity. People were judging a brand new class versus something that existed [for men] for 20 to 30 years. It needs time to grow. The increase in standard has quietened a lot of the scepticism. Hopefully people respect what is my best and the work that has gone into that.”
It seems strange that the 27-year-old would have to justify anything. In 2018, she became Britain’s most successful female canoeist, courtesy of eight individual and three team medals in a single season. She is a former European C1 European and World Cup champion. An Olympic debut is perfectly natural as a career step. Not that she is willing to purposely contemplate what may happen next. “There are situations in my head where I completely bomb out, don’t even make the final. And there is the situation where I am on the podium. It’s really important for me not to read into any of them.”
Franklin has been in canoes since the age of five and competing from just a year later. Through necessity, Franklin raced against men for years. “I was met with more respect than disdain,” she says. On the basis of talent, it seems safe to infer.
Her pandemic story is fascinating. Franklin used an elongated break from competition to try and alter what appears to have been a successful, if complicated, mindset.
“I have tried to enjoy racing a bit more and be more free when I am paddling,” she explains. “I was generally quite anxious, not in day-to-day life but when I came to a race. This sport is so random; you can be the best in the world but make a split-second wrong decision or the water is slightly funny … the ability to do a run when it matters is actually a really funny concept.
“When I got to races I knew what I was capable of but I wanted to know how I would paddle before it happened, which isn’t possible. So I struggled with being in the moment and being OK with whatever happened. Because of that, I really didn’t enjoy racing that much. The days of racing I found really hard. I would be crying my eyes out days before because I was reading into every little thing. That’s draining, it doesn’t help you perform. I’m a perfectionist. I’d pick apart the negatives of races. And this is a sport where you have to be free, where you have to react best.”
Yet the canoeist realises being overly calm would not work, either. She encountered that at her most recent European Championships. “I didn’t have the arousal level there of being able to perform because I was just ‘OK’,” Franklin says. “I had spent so much time trying to reduce anxiety levels at the start line, I kind of lost the concept of having that fight in me.” She must therefore discover a happy medium in the inevitably choppy waters of Japan.
If there is widespread sadness that this Games will be so removed from normality, competitive instinct generally placates athletes. Franklin is typical in that regard. “I’m fortunate, this is my first Games so I haven’t been near that environment,” she says. “I don’t have any comprehension of what ‘normal’ would be so I can just come in and react to what is in front of me.
“I’m a little bit sad about not getting into Tokyo but I have seen the area already, we were there in 2019. My job is to turn up, learn as much about the course as I can and be ready for race day. That would be the same no matter what was happening. I’m confident in the organising committee, I’m confident about a safe Games with the procedures in place. It will be a shame not to have my parents there but I had acknowledged that, even if they had been in Japan, I probably wouldn’t have seen them.
“For me, going to the Games is part of being the best in Britain and being recognised as that. To have lost any opportunity to sit on that start line would have been really hard. At the same time, I really strive to learn as much as I can about myself, to develop and grow as a person. Losing the Games wouldn’t have changed that, it would just have removed an experience and a chance of growth. I’d have been an Olympian without the chance to sit on a start line.”
That Franklin has precisely that opportunity has broader meaning. Success would merely elevate the level of her groundbreaking steps.