From Fear to Ironman: A Journey Through Waves and Challenges

My fascination with the sea has always been with me, perhaps because I am the son and brother of men of the sea—my father and my brother serve in the Brazilian Navy. But it hasn't always been an easy relationship

I was only 9 years old when I had my first experience with swimming. I took lessons twice a week after school. It seemed promising, but that phase didn’t last long. A mysterious incident brought an early end to that story.

Before one of the lessons, my brother and I got into the pool to warm up and have some fun. Everything seemed normal until, suddenly, I felt as if thousands of needles were piercing my body. My muscles contracted so intensely that I was paralyzed in the middle of the pool. After that, my memory fails me. The only thing I remember is being near the edge, with my brother beside me, asking what had happened as he helped me out of the water.

Time passed. Sixteen years later, I was living in Cascais when I came across the Ironman setup. Something about that event stirred something in me. It was a different kind of energy, something that not even skateboarding—my favorite sport—had ever given me. In that moment, I decided: one day, I would complete an Ironman 70.3.

Time went on, and my promise took a back seat until one day, I decided to change that for good. Instead of waiting for the right moment, I signed up for the race first—and only then did I start training. That way, there would be no turning back.

That’s when I realized a problem I had never considered a real obstacle: swimming in open water. It was nothing like crossing the 13 meters of my home pool. My search for help led me to Bibiana, my first instructor. And she can confirm: I couldn’t take ten strokes without lifting my head and grabbing onto the buoy.

The first lessons were a mix of anxiety and excitement. To make things even more interesting, I started training in November—meaning cold water, rough seas, and biting winds were all part of the package. At the same time, I decided to intensify my pool training. Every Wednesday at 5 a.m., I would take my bike and ride from Cascais to Oeiras to swim. Rain, wind, cold? None of it made me give up. Fatigue and hunger were constant, but my enthusiasm never faded.

January arrived, and with it, serious training. Now with a coach and training plans, I began to understand that the biggest challenge of an Ironman wasn’t the race itself, but the journey leading up to it. My first three-hour session on the bike trainer, followed by a few kilometers of running and then eight hours of standing at work in the kitchen, made that clear. But it was also then that I finally understood the reason behind all the energy I had felt when I first watched the Ironman.

Nine months later, there was no room for doubt. I had trained as best as possible within my work routine. And there I was, standing on the sand of Cascais Bay, watching the most emotional sunrise of my life. I felt the tears coming, but the tension kept them from falling.

The race began. The pain appeared early, with cramps right from the first meter of the half marathon. But quitting was never an option. I had already overcome months of exhausting training, rides in the rain, and cold mornings in the sea. Besides, there was one detail that kept me from even considering giving up: as soon as I signed up, I bought tickets for my parents to come from Brazil to watch me. I knew that, no matter what happened, I would cross that finish line—even if it meant rolling across it.

In the end, swimming in open water brought me much more than an Ironman. It gave me back a dream, transformed me both physically and mentally, and brought me closer to incredible people, of whom I became a fan.

Now, I’ve been away from the water for a while, but the longing is growing. I can hardly wait to put on my wetsuit and come out of the sea dying of thirst from all the saltwater I’ve swallowed.

Ruan Ruiz