Since 2016, Sean Gaffney has been a dominant force in indoor rowing. He has won two English, three Welsh, nine British and two World indoor rowing championships setting more records than he cares to count on the rowing machine and the SkiErg. Over four instalments, Sean takes us through the key moments that made him an athlete.
For as long as I can remember I have been an athlete. Luckily for me my definition of 'athlete' only extends to someone who does exercise and simply tries to be better at it.
There's no need to win medals or gather titles, do some sport or exercise and try and be better and I have been doing that for over 40 years with varying degrees of success.
In over four decades of sport, I have come second in my junior school sports day sack race (more on that later) and served for 29 years in the Royal Navy. During this time, I represented the Fleet Air Arm at rugby, and competed as a command field gunner at the Royal Tournament, the world’s toughest team sport, which cost me the bottom of my left leg.
Since then, I have represented the Royal Navy in two different sports and competed at the 2016 Invictus Games coming home with two golds, a silver and a bronze.
In 2018, I represented Wales at the Commonwealth Games as a para-powerlifter where I carried a spinal injury and came plum last. That ultimately led to a four-year recovery and switching sports from para-powerlifting to powerlifting.
After mostly recovering from my 2018 injury I was selected in 2023 to represent Great Britain as a master’s powerlifter, competing at the European and World championships against able-bodied athletes.
Powerlifting led to a left shoulder injury. Supraspinatus and infraspinatus were ripped off the bone and my biceps tendon and subscapularis needed quite a bit of repair. The surgeon did say the shoulder was “completely buggered."
I have also had bilateral testicular cancer and despite the loss of a leg, I returned to active service, completing tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.
And that is a very quick precis of my past.
My shoulder surgery was in mid-April. For three months I wasn’t allowed to row or lift weights. However, training is now allowed, and I have set three goals.
To take a guest spot at the Irish para-powerlifting National championships in December with the aim of not embarrassing myself.
Regain selection for the GB masters powerlifting team in 2024-25.
In December of this year set a new 50-54 PR3 2k world record at BRIC.
For me, achieving the goals isn’t the important thing. The important thing is working hard towards them.
Anyway, enough preamble. I’ve been asked for four moments that I think helped mould me as an athlete and I have one of those for you today.
I was going to pick my defeat when I was eight during my sack race debacle (did you think I’d forgotten?). Whereupon being pipped at the line I decided that if I practised, tried harder and didn’t give up I would win the following year.
Instead, I’ve chosen a camping trip to the New Forest circa 1980.
I was nine or ten years old. My father asked if I wanted to learn how to read maps. I said yes and he whisked me off to Lyndhurst and purchased my first prismatic compass. He showed me a map of the area, taught me the definition of a map and contour lines and explained the legend with its myriad of symbols.
He told me that I would eventually be able to do resections, draw gradients of the land and get a map to land appreciation, whereby I could look at the map and build a picture in my mind’s eye of how it looks. He then put the map away and I didn’t see it again that holiday.
For the most part, I had no idea what he was talking about, and he knew it. He just told me that those things were for other camping trips and all I had to know were the basics.
Using a stick, he cleared an area of forest floor and drew a grid square, teaching me four-figure grid references, stones become churches and buildings, twigs become roads or streams and leaves stood in for woods.
Northings and Eastings were explained. I was told the difference
between, grid, true and magnetic north, lessons were short and informative. The muddy grid on the floor grew bigger over the days. four-figure grid references became six figures.
Holding the compass steady and away from metal objects was key, as was taking your time to get things right. Taking bearings became easier as did keeping an eye on the time and counting paces to guesstimate the distance I had travelled.
By the end of the camping trip, my father cheerfully loaded my mother and sister into the car. He handed me a piece of paper and said, "See you at the pub, if you don’t arrive early enough you won’t get any food. If you arrive late, then make your way back here" (it was the early 80s it was a different time). The paper contained a starting point and a list of bearings and rendezvous points for me to find.
The car disappeared and I pulled out my compass. Now, navigation can be extremely difficult, but I knew he had taught me what I needed to know. I hit the start, took my bearing and headed off. The first few RVs were simple. Most were the ones we had used during the week.
Soon though the familiar surroundings of Denny Wood disappeared behind me, and I entered open heathland with lots of gorse and wet marsh.
Looking through the sights of the compass I lined up my bearing, located each RV and moved on. It was going well until a large bog stood between me and a distant checkpoint.
Looking back, it was a little test. I’d been taught to trust the compass. I couldn’t go through it, I couldn’t go over it, I had to go around it. It took a bit of back and forth and picking my way through marshy ground, but I managed to get back on track, hit my mark and found the pub, in time for food with celebratory pudding.
Looking back, I probably hadn’t gone more than a few miles and I now know that as soon as I entered open land, I had a doting father watching my progress through binoculars.
Over the week he had allowed me to choose to learn. He had given me a glimpse into more difficult tasks and skills, he had taught me the basics and had practised and drilled me until I was proficient.
A task had been set, that he believed I was capable of. The consequences of failure or success had been laid out very clearly. (surely my mum would have made him stay till I arrived…??). During my little journey, he had thrown in a small problem that by taking my time and not panicking I had solved.
In essence, my father coached me, allowing me to learn a new skill, master the basics, believe in myself and prove I could achieve.
The important thing for me about learning to map read is that it’s about problem-solving. Understanding where you are, where you want to go and how you choose your route and plan.
Even if you go wrong, you can, with patience, basic skills and sometimes tenacity, still make your destination. Skills that can be applied to life.
The bigger lessons he taught me went far beyond map reading, it's only with age and reflection that I can see what he did for me and the path he set me on. It is him I must thank for any success I have had.