This year my mum decided to go to China for ten days and visit my grandma. Before she left, a lot of planning was being done. Like who would pack everyone’s lunch, who would cook dinner, where should we park her car on the street, who should check up on our elderly neighbour, and so on. I was tasked with driving my 13 year old brother to his swimming training, which unfortunately I believed was the worst task to get because this meant I needed to get up at 4am in the morning, 6 days a week.

I thought about sabotaging him by turning his alarm off on some mornings. Before executing my plan, I decided to gauge his reaction by casually asking how he would feel if he slept through a few days of training. He replied, “Well that’s not very good. I would probably just go back to sleep but I’d feel pretty bad. Also I would have to do a double session the next day. Like in the morning and then again in the afternoon. Also my coach would question me why I didn’t come when I was supposed to.”

Maybe a little cruel, I said to my brother that it wasn’t like he was going to win the Olympics and surely this training regime was a bit extreme for a hobby. Immediately, he pulled a face somewhere between finding it funny and being offended. Thinking this was my opportunity, I asked “so are you still going to training tomorrow?”. And he looked at me with even more offended-ness in his face, and said “Yeah”, but in that teenager tone of voice that tells me he thinks I’m dumb. 

So for the next two weeks I set my alarm for 4am and drove him to training. The streets were dark and quiet, but we were never the only ones driving. The carpark was free enough but never empty. As the moon clocked off and the sun rose, my brother swam. As days turned into weeks into months, my brother swam. And as he swam, so did his teammates, and the swimmers in the next suburb across, and the ones across from there.

I still stand by my point that he probably won’t make it to the Olympics, let alone win something. But there is a certain sense of beauty in trying – it is the feeling of life. He has already gained something more meaningful, and it is the affirmation of his existence in this world.

I hope to continue documenting my brother’s training session for as long as he swims, and more practically for as long as I can wake up at 4am. If my brother makes it to the Olympics one day, this project will probably be less convincing. And I would be very proud of him because he woke up at 4am and trained 6 days a week.