My parents, who have been collecting SAIL since I started working here like they did with my childhood artwork, are running out of storage space. It’s hard to wrap my head around, but this is the 100th issue of SAIL that I have worked on. Sometimes I wonder where the time has gone. Other times, I think back over all the stories and all the years and wonder how it possibly could have fit into just 100 issues.
As a little behind the scenes, every editor at SAIL reads every article about three times. Once for a first revision pass, again after it gets laid out to look like magazine pages (where things like captions and photo credits get added), and finally one last look during the “color read” at the end, where traditionally everything gets printed out to be read exactly as it would in the magazine.
You learn a lot reading that many articles that closely. I won’t claim to remember every single one of the roughly 2,000 stories we’ve run in the past nine years, but there are so many lessons that have stuck with me, from addressing common problems like fixing fiberglass blisters or replacing standing rigging to ultra specific projects like removing a chart table or converting unused water ballast tanks to additional berths. I could tell you slightly more about Lithium Iron Phosphate batteries then I ever wanted to know. Nine years of sitting on our Top 10 Best Boats judging panel—first as a fly on the wall, then as a color opinion from a “youth perspective,” and finally as a full member—has allowed me to absorb a diverse range of informed perspectives from experts in boat design. Ultimately, those conversations taught me as much about what people love about being on the water as anything else.
However, more importantly than any of the technical skills, design perspectives, or cautionary tales I’ve absorbed, the real take away from 100 issues of SAIL is the story of a community. To me, what has mattered most are the stories of courage, tenacity, and kindness. The adventurous spirits. The grace in the face of tragedy. The generosity and dreams and hope. That is the foundation that this community is built on. That is what has inspired me through thousands of miles of my own sailing and kept this job fun and meaningful after almost a decade.
This issue marks my one year anniversary of being named Editor-in-Chief. It has been a bit of a wild ride, full of ups and downs, massive learning curves, and a few typos that I am still cringing over. I’m appreciative of everyone who’s written in with kind words and recommendations. They have meant so much to me. No one can make a magazine on their own. It requires the voices and input of a whole community, and I have been so lucky to have such talented writers, photographers, and columnists to work with. But, in equal measure, I have also been lucky to have engaged, knowledgeable readers to cheer me on as I’ve gotten my feet under me. Please continue to reach out with things you would like to see more of, questions you have about our process, and feedback on what we’re doing. It may be my job to put it all together, but this doesn’t happen without an entire community of sailors submitting, advising, and reading the magazine.
No job is perfect all the time, but being an editor at SAIL has got to be pretty high on the list of best jobs in the world. As I reach this milestone, I want to thank you for being a part of it.
Lydia can be reached by email at lydia.mullan@firecrown.com or @lydiaatsea on Instagram
This article was originally published in the October 2026 issue.
