I used to be a fast swimmer—competitive, powerful, and always racing the clock. Back then, everything was about speed, about shaving off seconds, about proving how far and how fast I could go. There was a thrill in it, an almost electric rush that came with the sound of the whistle, the push off the wall, and the relentless pursuit of the finish line.
These days, my pace is different. I move slower in the water, not because I’ve lost my love for swimming, but because my relationship with it has changed. Ever since I discovered freediving and shifted my focus to breath-hold and efficiency, I’ve learned that swimming isn’t only about power—it’s also about presence.
I won’t lie: sometimes I do miss the adrenaline of competition, the structure of training programs, and the satisfaction of measurable progress. But freediving gave me something I didn’t know I was missing. It showed me the beauty of silence, of slowing down, of letting the water hold me instead of constantly pushing against it.
Swimming in a pool and swimming in the ocean are two completely different experiences. A pool is measured, predictable, neatly divided by lanes and time. The ocean, on the other hand, is vast and alive—always shifting, never the same twice. Both test you, but freediving has taught me a deeper kind of discipline: to be still, to listen closely, to surrender control, and trust the water in a way I never did before.
It’s no longer about racing against the clock—it’s about finding calm in the depths, about moving in harmony with something greater than myself. And in that stillness, I’ve found a freedom I never felt, even at my fastest.
Lenn of Spades ♠ 