It all started at the Quarteira race in the Algarve, a place that, for many, already commands respect — but for me, it was the true beginning in open water. I was also just starting in triathlon at the time, which, in a way, mirrored what was happening in the sea: I didn’t exactly know what I was doing, but I felt like I had to be there.
That day, the sea was rough. You couldn’t see anything — not where to go, nor what to do. It was like being blind, but with a steady heart. Fear hit hard, like the waves crashing against my body. Even so, I kept going.
Without seeing, I started feeling. Every stroke, every breath drawn deeper than the last, as if I were building a character on an invisible stage. I faced the sea like someone stepping into an intense scene — with everything, with full commitment.
But it wasn't easy. Despite the pool training and the open water simulations, nothing had fully prepared me for what I encountered there. The anxiety before the start, the cold that cut through my skin even before I entered the water, the feeling of constantly losing my bearings — all of it was real. The pace I thought I had in training vanished with the first clash against a wave. The technique I had practiced so much seemed to evaporate with every poorly executed stroke, every mouthful of water. The sea revealed itself as it truly is: unpredictable, and above all, honest.
Even so, I went out. I did the race. And in that moment I realized: it wasn’t just the beginning of a sport or an art. It was the beginning of throwing myself into the unknown and trusting that I was capable. The breakthrough wasn’t just at the finish line — it was in every second spent in the water, where the body fought and the mind learned, where I realized that real training begins when comfort ends.
Luís Braz
Parabéns meu filhão. Muito orgulho pela iniciativa. ❤️🥰👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻