I am André Marquet, and this is my story with swimming.
I was 19 years old when the 2000 Olympic Games were held in Sydney, Australia. It was summer in Europe, and I was on vacation. I admit I’m not a big fan of major sports events, except for the highlights on TV or the occasional channel surfing.
At that time, I was watching a linear TV report about a young man from Equatorial Guinea who almost drowned during the 100m freestyle race due to inadequate training. The journalist explained that it was part of an Olympic Committee program to include athletes from traditionally excluded countries in the Games.
The athlete, Eric Moussambani, with limited preparation and no access to the same facilities as his peers, swam in a 50-meter pool and completed the race in 1 minute and 52 seconds. He had learned to swim only a few months before the Olympics and trained in a small hotel pool.
Vídeo da prova 100L Eric Moussambani
That moment sparked my reflection on swimming. It wasn’t so much Ian Thorpe, the “Australian Torpedo,” with his famous “shark suit” breaking Olympic records, who inspired me, although I was amazed by him too. It was a young African who made me get off the couch and wonder why I, a university student with a 50-meter pool next to my campus, wasn’t taking the opportunity to improve my swimming.
Vídeo da prova 400L de Ian Thorpe:
It would’ve been easy to laugh at Eric for throwing himself into the pool without knowing how to swim well, but he had the courage to overcome the lack of infrastructure and proper training. Meanwhile, I, with access to an Olympic pool and university coaches, wasn’t taking advantage of the favorable conditions I had.
n September, when classes resumed, I signed up at the university campus pool to improve my swimming and take on a 50-meter pool. I started in the beginner levels and, motivated, progressed to the most advanced level, never missing a single class.
After finishing the course, I moved away from Lisbon and lost touch with regular swimming. In Tunisia, where I went to work, I used a public pool, but I was reprimanded for showering naked in the men’s locker room! That experience kept me away from the pool during my stay. I’ll share more about this amusing, culture-shock story in a future blog post.
I started swimming in open waters during the Oeiras Triathlon in 2002 and participated sporadically in some races until the summer of 2020. After the first lockdown, I took part in an open water event in Sesimbra. Since then, I’ve joined a group that swims on Sunday mornings, with the same dedication I had in my college swimming classes.

Pic 1. Before starting the race with my friend Ana, wearing that nervous smile of someone who doesn’t know what they’re getting into.
No ano passado, decidi participar numa prova maior, o SwimGP de 5K, que começa na praia de São João do Estoril e termina na praia dos Pescadores em Cascais. No entanto, a prova foi afetada por um denso nevoeiro que complicou e muito a experiência, levando ao seu cancelamento, conforme relatado no artigo de Joana Paz, “Swimming, fog, rescue“.

Pic 2. After being rescued by one of the support boats halfway through the race – no smiles, but grateful that everyone was safe and no one got lost.
During a kickboxing session, I tore the anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee, which led to surgery and two years of recovery with physiotherapy. I left combat sports behind and returned to swimming to strengthen my muscles. This month, I received my membership number from the Portuguese Swimming Federation, registered by the Swim4Fun Club, where I train at the Jamor Complex.
We all have our own path, with moments that inspire us to act. At Swim4Fun, however, I found something essential that was missing in my journey: people motivated to help each other achieve their goals. As the great master Vinícius de Moraes said, “I never walk alone; I only walk in good company.” I would add, I never swim alone; I only swim in good company.Eu nunca ando só, eu só ando em boa companhia.” E eu acrescentaria que eu nunca nado só, eu só nado em boa companhia.