A few days ago, you would have been afraid to leave the boat under autopilot, when sliding down the waves at more than twenty knots. But the human body has that incredible ability to get used to anything.  So what used to be the fear of water streaming by your ears on the other side of a fine layer of carbon reassures you and calms you. You are sailing along quickly, so all is well. You continue to dream. Your mind wanders and you start thinking about this world you are in without really seeing anything of it. The underwater world that you are flying over like a jet cruising above the land. Looking up from underneath from the depths of the sea, the surface of the water is another sky. A sky, which may be silver, dark or light, blueish or pinkish according to the clouds and time of day. A sky that the sunlight peeks through, offering a milky spotlight to the wealth of life in this liquid desert. This morning, that sky is disturbed by the long blue zig-zag veins of the waves.  The huge bubbling clouds of the breakers burst and scatter in an explosion of sound dampened by the volume of water.  You're a whale swimming effortlessly under these heavens. Close to the surface you are tossed around a bit, but the movements tend to rock you gently. 
Suddenly, you hear a noise you have never heard before, a more strident noise, like a wail that gradually builds. The noise is getting closer. And suddenly the surface above you is crossed by a dark cone resembling the body of a huge fish. Its long fluorescent fin is cutting through the water. At its tip, hanging on like a pilot fish, a thin, pointed bulb pierces the water like a torpedo. You have hardly had the time to see it coming and it is there above you. A violent sweep of the tail and you just have the time to avoid getting sliced by the blade and thumped by the torpedo. In a whirlpool of water, it has already disappeared. There only remains a long dark trace like the vapour trail of an aeroplane in the other sky, the one you see when you come up to breathe on the surface.
Now that you have avoided this imaginary danger, you wake up again. You tell yourself that if this whale had been real, you could have hit it with your keel and seriously injured it. The underwater horn hasn't been invented to warn of your arrival. Out of my way please! Now that's all very well, but now your ten minute break is over, and you need to get up. You push away the duvet.  As a wise woman, you have thought of everything, and you have put your socks in a dry place. In spite of the boat's movement, you have to slip them on somehow, which is no easy task, and you lift your feet up to avoid putting them down on the cold floor. On with the slippers. Perfect. Then, as quick as you can, you put the kettle on to make some tea.
You feel a bit tired, but you know it's going to be fine, if you remain patient and determined, in spite of the constraints and the tiredness that ordinary mortals do not experience.  You're a sailor and this is a man's world. The sea was always for men. The women stayed at home to do other jobs. They were the object of dreams during manoeuvres or when the crew were busy working, if you think of those nostalgic songs, where the love stories always end sadly. Some women nevertheless managed to become captains or pirates, by disguising as men and hiding their femininity. But times have changed and women are now part of the history of ocean racing.
The kettle starts to boil. Out with the tea bag. The boiling mug warms your hands and your face. But now the wind is getting up. You quickly get dressed to go outside. It's going to be tough, because in spite of all the training, your lung capacity and your muscle power will never equal those of a man, far from it. You know though that you are going to have to give your all to this boat, which is after all identical to the boys'. You don't have any choice.
Due to the need to perpetuate the species, genetics has defined the roles. The warrior men bring home the food and defend, while women have babies and bring up their young. Of course, that is a very simplistic view, but it does show the innate behavioural trends. When you put a ball on the ground, boys kick it, while girls pick it up and cuddle it.
The wind is getting up again. This time you need to go out there quickly. No more waiting to avoid facing the elements and finding your limits. Take it easy, anticipate, use your intuition. These are different arms from the virile methods used against the elements. In such a long race, the method is not what matters. the main thing is making it home safely and well placed back to Les Sables d’Olonne.
Getting dressed is a long process, if you want to stay dry. The wind is strong, and you're going to have to struggle like a man, in spite of having a faster pulse, lower blood pressure, a smaller heart and lower resistance to violence. Proportionally, the efforts are that much bigger and are therefore to be admired. In this race, where everyone is equal, we need to find a female word for skipper, maybe Vendée Globe skipperess?

Dr Jean-Yves Chauve