Chapter 63
To compete in the Summer Olympics with only about a year left, I had to become a national team member first.
"Simple enough."
After checking the world records, it seemed I could sweep all the Olympic gold medals regardless of distance.
But... 'Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, individual medley...?'
Unlike modern swimming where speed alone mattered regardless of stroke, the old generation divided them meticulously. Distances varied too: 50m, 100m, 200m, 400m, 800m, 1500m! That meant a ton of medals up for grabs just in swimming events.
"Whoa..."
That explained why Nam Hae-su could become the "Swimming Emperor" as the Olympic medal count leader. In the modern era with fewer swimming events, surpassing his medal tally was practically impossible.
"This is trouble. I only learned the basics of the other strokes."
Backstroke: lying flat on your back, alternating arm rotations while kicking with both legs.
Breaststroke: body parallel to the water, pulling legs and arms in like a frog then thrusting out.
Butterfly: sweeping arms like oars, legs together like a mermaid's tail fin kicking.
My skills in those were at newborn baby level.
'Should I learn them now?'
The stroke Song Seon-yeong taught me was the fastest: crawl freestyle. Face and body toward the water, alternating arm pulls while kicking with both legs. And depending on kicks per arm stroke—two-beat, four-beat, six-beat...
"Different from modern times."
Six-beat for sprints, two- or four-beat for distance? Total opposite.
Crawl propulsion is about 70% from arms. In six-beat, arms rotate once per six leg cycles. Four-beat: once per four. So in 12 leg cycles, six-beat arms move twice, four-beat three times. Which is faster? Four-beat, more arm action in the same time.
"I still remember it."
"Molrang?"
"Seon-yeong hated how thick her forearms would get as a swimmer."
"Molrang..."
So Song Seon-yeong used a weird five-beat focusing on her strong long legs over arms. Probably why she lost.
"Behave."
"Molrang~"
We were hopping trains and buses aimlessly toward the Player Village.
"Feels weird."
"Molrang?"
"If my memory's right, this village is a World Cultural Heritage site."
Praised for preserving old-era stadiums. So outdated it became a photo spot for tourists and couples. Part-time jobs kept me too busy to visit.
Crunch crunch.
The forest-ringed village had real charm.
"Lemme see... past Meeting Square straight ahead, left side."
"Molrang~"
Following signs, we reached the swimming center entrance!
"Athlete?"
"Uh... here to become one."
"Wrong place. We don't recruit here. National team trains here."
"Where do they recruit?"
"Check online."
"Ah, okay."
No entry for civilians! Bounced by security at the swimming center gate, I was stuck.
"What now?"
"Molrang?"
"Sneak in?"
Beg a coach for one shot. Prove my skills, and trespassing would be forgiven.
* * *
"Hah! Not even sports college, no high school diploma?"
"I'm an immigrant..."
Meeting a coach heading in wasn't hard. But,
"Your Korean's great. Pass the high school equivalency, go to sports college, follow procedure, come back."
Coaches were iron walls.
"Just one look. Confident in freestyle at least."
"Oho, that confident? Get special admission to college, prove it, come back."
"Ugh..."
Fair point. Maybe because I rocketed to first team on skill alone in reality? Underestimated old-era nationals.
"Just once..."
"Go home."
"Give me a moment..."
"No."
Same from every coach. Just one demo needed, but that one chance was impossible.
Finally, "Here on report."
"Damn."
Cops arrived.
"Athlete ID or government ID?"
"No."
"Come to the station then. Cooperate, no fine."
"...Okay."
Didn't want trouble, so I got in the cop car easily.
"What's that on your head?"
"Hat."
"Molrang molrang~"
"Cute hat."
"Thanks."
"Molrang~"
Quick questioning at the station, released. I ground my teeth.
'Just you wait!'
My fault for skipping procedure, sure, but quizzing college and looking down? Unbelievable.
"Haa! Driving me nuts. Less than a year to Olympics...!"
Searched open swimming meets. No shortcut to nationals in one go.
Gym meets, regionals, nationals... Needed college or club affiliation, climb step by step for Player Village.
But 'at this rate, no dice.'
Worsening epidemic canceling meets left and right.
Sports college? Earliest March next year. Miss Olympics.
"Then what..."
"Molrang!"
"Why?"
"Molrang!"
Strolling along, I stopped at Molrang's frantic chirps overhead.
Why the fuss? Glancing aside, I spotted a banner on street trees.
National Marathon
"This is it!"
Pools limit swimmers per heat, can't handle hundreds. Strict entry limits participation. Marathon?
Block some roads for 42.195km, done! Hundreds run at once, pay fee—no checks on school or age.
'Tomorrow even?'
Still open? Flyer said until 6pm today.
"Molrang?"
"Thanks a ton!"
"Molrang~"
Online registration! Start at searched address, finish at Player Village track stadium. National marathon for epidemic unity, pros and pols joining... Perfect.
"Time to show a shaman's stamina chasing ghosts!"
"Molrang!"
Registered on the spot.
* * *
Public marathon, no must-finish. Quit anytime, gifts for under 10 hours.
Safety crew with megaphones briefed rules, handed thin race bib shirt.
'Right to the front!'
Local broadcasters focus on pros. Start strong to dodge doping rumors.
"Keep distance."
"No mask off!"
"One minute!"
Epidemic fear? More safety than spectators.
'Better they don't know.'
Compared to humanity's coming apocalypse, this was warm-up.
Bang-!
Start gun hit eardrums, I surged ahead.
"Excuse me!"
"Molrang!"
Pacers blocking for pacing. Minor hassle, but overtook soon.
'There.'
Front pack of marathon builds. Joined naturally.
"Huh?"
"Huuuh?"
They eyed my cheap sneakers weirdly.
'Little provocation.'
Wanna full sprint to finish, but no doping vibes. Slight lead it is.
Whoosh.
Passed lead runner, took point.
"......"
But he kept steady pace unshaken.
'As expected...'
Thinks I'll burn out? Watch how long his cool holds.
* * *
Good no smartphone ban in marathon rules.
"......"
"Ignore me."
"Molrang!"
Provoked runners pushed too hard, dropped one by one. Last man standing, but struggling face. Gap unclosing, anxiety clear. Finally, wobble—nearly fell.
"......"
"Hang in there. Finish line's close."
Player Village gate where cops busted me loomed.
'Held out long.'
Nearly two hours throttling speed to dodge pacing cheat rumors. Run beside camera-tailed pro, no BS possible.
But done now. Hit village, full throttle.
Thud!
"...Guh?!"
Shocked runner roared at my burst. Gap widened...
Splat!
Last rival, shaky steps, faceplanted on asphalt.
"Oof..."
"Molrang..."
Felt bad using him as sacrifice, but no stopping.
Thud!
First into Player Village track stadium finish!
Stamina fine, but soles screaming.
'Time... 1:59:13.'
Phone check. A bit faster than track marathon world record.
Slow it? Too late to tweak.
"Done!"
"Molrang!"
Thud! Pushed through white tape on my chest, crossed.
"......"
"......"
Stadium seats silent.
"Uh... water?"
"Thanks!"
Sucked on the straw from a high school girl's bottle, plopped down.
Whoosh—off with shoes and socks.
"Stings..."
"Molrang..."
No blisters or peels, but soles beet red.
"Excuse me."
"Yeah."
"Started mid-race?"
"No, full finish. You'd know from live stream."
"......"
Questioner bit lip.
"Problem?"
"Time's 1:59:52."
"Too bad. Bad shoes slowed me."
"Haa...?"
Finally noticed no sneakers, face stiffened.
Click! Click click!
Reporter snapped pics, mic out.
"Winning thoughts?"
"Live stream?"
"Yes."
"Payback for getting dissed over credentials."
"Who dissed you?"
"Secret for their honor."
No deeper probe, next question.
"Goals?"
"Yeah. Marathon's hobby. I'm—"
"W-wait! Sorry, unofficial world record 1:59:52, and it's a hobby?!"
"H-hobby?"
"Hobby...?"
Shocked reporter. Onlookers same.
Whatever,
"Yes. Specialty's swimming. Didn't even get a chance, just dissed!"
"Molrang! From today, I'm Nam Hae-su."