When I was corralled into joining a swimming race on April 11, a few thoughts passed through my mind.
The first was noticing the indignity of Meagan McCabe, the swim coach at the Gore Aquatic Centre, and her two sons chuckling in the background.
Much like Apollo Creed, they had everything in their favour. Regular training, an iron-like grip on the pool, the cultish vibe of the swim team, every resource at their disposal.
They laughed at me, not knowing the truth. They were unleashing a lion.
You, reader, may think I am just a simple journalist, spending my time sharing the stories of the community, dedicating myself to the people of the Gore district.
But in the past I was a star athlete, the year 11 swimming champion, who would have won every swimming cup had I not been robbed on two occasions by false starts, courtesy of the physical education teacher.
Sure, I’m out of shape.
I haven’t touched a pool in three years.
My last official swim training was 16 years ago, before I was kicked off the swim squad for delinquency.
Like Rocky Balboa, the cards are against me.
But hearing the doubts of the swim team, their taunts, the way I have been written off makes me want to turn back the pages to another story — a champion, rising like the phoenix.
On April 11, I will be competing as the underdog against professional swimmers, in a 50m freestyle Splash ’n’ Dash charity swimming event.
Some have questioned why only 50m as a showing of swimming prowess, asking why we don’t go further distances.
I can only point to the fact everyone knows who Usain Bolt is, and nobody knows who won the marathons at the Olympics.
Speed is the only thing that matters to me, and the world. Nobody cares if you can go a certain pace over a long distance.
My training has already begun, with my bench press skyrocketing and my deadlift a truly staggering showcase of human strength and power.
I have been to one swim training, but it’s a little bit too difficult so I’m probably going to try avoid swimming until, like, the week beforehand, so I don’t get too sore.
This may seem counter-intuitive, but just as a six-pack is not built in the gym but the kitchen, a swimming race isn’t won in the pool but in the weights room.
This match, this fight, is for dignity in the face of adversity.
It’s standing up to a world saying "no, they have been training for years while you’ve been eating Snickers bars and potato chips, you can’t possibly win".
It’s about fighting for the little guy, who just so happens to be the biggest and strongest person who has ever stepped foot in the Gore Aquatic Centre.
On April 11, I will show the world just how much I am like Rocky Balboa in the second film, not in the first one, when he loses.
