Jane Barrett is a senior correspondent for Reuters, based in Madrid. She has covered a variety of topics from finance to fashion. She has spent much of the last few months reporting on the 32nd America's Cup in Valencia, Spain. In the following story she recounts her trip aboard an America's Cup class yacht.
I'm lying in the bottom of our boat, the summer sun beating down and the deep blue Mediterranean flicking by our carbon fibre hull as we fly along at 14 knots.
Then comes the call. "Pit grinders ready!" Cautiously I rise to my feet with my fellow novice "grinders", trying to keep my balance as I shuffle into position, the boat heeling over at a perilous angle.
Conor Kissane, our skipper, is totally calm as he scans the water and the wind and logs the distance between our America's Cup Class yacht and Team Germany.
We're so close we can hear their hydrodynamic hull slicing through the water. It's time to tack.
"Backwards!" our trainer Carlos barks. My pit partner Hannah and I start pumping away at the grinder, the equipment which shifts the sails. In a matter of seconds, the 24-tonne boat has turned 70 degrees and we're already heeling right over to the other side.
"At ease!" and we crouch back down to keep out of the wind as we try to close in on the Germans.
Having covered the run-up to the 32nd America's Cup over the last year, I'm finally on board myself, learning what it's like to sail one of these beautiful, sleek, 24-metre yachts.
The answer? Incredible... and incredibly tiring.
The eight grinders are the powerhouse of an America's Cup yacht and munch their way through about 5,000 calories a day as they pull the sails up and down and side to side.
I've never shied away from weight training but at 1.68 metres and 55 kilos, I'm a good deal smaller than your typical grinder.
A few tacks into our duel with Team Germany, and I'm feeling the difference. We hit the winches again and suddenly I'm out of power. We shift down a gear and finally around we go, the boat creaking and groaning as the huge forces shift us round.
Team Germany, who were knocked out of contention in May, are back out testing their boat on the same waters where Team New Zealand and Alinghi are facing off in the America's Cup.
In a relaxed mood, they are happy to engage with a crew of novices.
We slow down noticeably until Conor turns our bow down and we escape from their draft, pick up speed and sail off into the distance for a much-needed rest.
He calls us each up to the wheel to try helming an America's Cup Class yacht - the F1 car of sailing. With a childish grin, I take control of the boat which raced the Louis Vuitton Cup as one of the Japanese team boats in 2000.
She now belongs to a charter firm that takes fanatics and beginners out to experience yachting's premier event.
As I stand at the wheel, I'm struck by how sensitive the multi-million dollar yacht is. A tiny movement and suddenly we're off course.
Back up on deck, I lie back and gaze up at the sun glinting off the kevlar and carbon fibre mainsail, the size of a jumbo jet wing, and once again wonder at the beauty of these boats.
I also wonder at the strength of the guys who do this every day for a living. And unlike me, they don't have time for a mid-race siesta.