With no forewarning, I heard that my son was to take part in the race during a telephone conversation. As I recovered from the shock, my initial thought was 'how?, he's not a sailor'. As we continued our conversation, I thought 'how wonderful!' ... then 'how dangerous !'. I tried to control my voice and show enthusiasm for the venture whilst hiding the anxiety I was already feeling.

Sail training completed, he'd become an enthusiastic sailor but it was very difficult to wave him off from Southampton without showing my deep concern.

Writing as his mother, I know my son detests 'fuss'. Suggest he should be careful; ask if he needs warm gloves; about his bruises; if his warts hurt, and I can see him cringe. A fond kiss goodbye on the dockside is deeply embarrassing. But put on a brave face, do none of these things, don't FAX loving messages to the boat and I fear I present a non-caring image, and I do care..... terribly.

Several months into the race I still find myself torn between two emotions, pride and fear. I follow the race avidly via every available channel. I cheer when Motorola is second and worry when they drop to tenth. I live the race at home and am constantly aware of the dangers. I've learnt to read between the lines of the reports and know if they say 'severe storm' they have had a very bad time. I mentally count each stitch of a repaired kite. I never stop worrying.

I have been to each stopover to cheer them in. I hope to be in Cape Town and Boston too. But it will be with unashamed relief that I shall be in Ocean Village in July to welcome all 14 boats home with their respective crews. I really feel they are all part of my family now.

Victoria Gooding

Mother of Stephen Gooding, crew member on Motorola