The Art Underwater: Why Underwater Phases Decide the Fate of the Blue Lane

I have spent hours in front of a screen, rewinding a video of a Japanese swimmer just to count the number of dolphin kicks underwater. Some would call me crazy, but I call it the moment where the race truly begins. In the stands, spectators cheer when they see powerful arm strokes above the water. They miss the most important thing: the real battle happens where no one sees — underwater, where every centimeter is measured in milliseconds. Modern swimming is no longer a sport of strong arms and broad shoulders. It has become a game of physics, data, and ruthless patience. I remember the 100m freestyle final in Tokyo 2026, when Caeleb Dressel touched the wall in 47.02 seconds. But what kept me awake was not that number, but the first 15 meters. He dove underwater and maintained his kicking speed to such an extent that when he surfaced, the gap to the second-place swimmer was already one body length. People call it talent. I call it the result of thousands of hours practicing a technique that is hard to see with the naked eye. Let me give you a number: according to research by sports scientists at the University of Tokyo, a freestyle swimmer can achieve maximum velocity during the underwater phase up to 15% faster than when swimming on the surface. Fifteen percent in a sport where 0.01 seconds can mean the difference between gold and nothing. That is why top teams around the world spend millions of dollars on pools with underwater camera systems and 3D motion analysis software. They are not betting on luck. They are betting on details that opponents are not patient enough to see. I once had the opportunity to sit with a veteran Japanese coach who trained three Olympic swimmers. He did not talk about race tactics. He talked about ankle angles. "Do you know why my swimmers always finish with a stronger kick in the last 10 meters? Because we spend 40% of our training time on underwater, where no spectators can see." That statement made me realize that the difference between a good swimmer and a world champion is not in what you see on television, but in what you never get to see. But here is the contrarian point I want to dig into: while the world is racing to optimize underwater, are we losing something more fundamental? I watched Kristóf Milák's performance at the 2026 World Championships, where he broke the 200m butterfly record with 1:50.34. What was remarkable was not his underwater — actually, it was quite modest compared to Dressel. What was remarkable was his terrifying ability to maintain speed on the surface. He does not need perfect underwater because he has an arm turnover and endurance that few can match. This raises a big question: is our obsession with underwater causing us to neglect overall physical foundation? I do not have an absolute answer, but I have an observation from my own experience following hundreds of races. At the youth level, coaches often emphasize underwater as a secret weapon. They spend hours refining body position, kick angles, and timing of surfacing. This creates athletes with good individual technique, but they lack the endurance to sustain when the race enters the final 100 meters. I have seen too many young talents swim brilliantly in the first 50 meters and then fade alarmingly in the rest. They rely too much on underwater as a crutch, and when that crutch fails, they do not know what to do. In contrast, world-class swimmers like Katie Ledecky show a different approach. Ledecky is not known for exceptional underwater. She is known for her astonishing ability to maintain a steady pace throughout 800m or 1500m. She does not need to dive deep and kick furiously because she has an aerobic foundation that almost no one can match. This shows that underwater is not the only formula for success. It is a tool, and that tool needs to be used at the right time, by the right person, for the right purpose. I remember an afternoon at the Nagoya pool when I watched a group of young swimmers training. Their coach, a man in his 50s with white hair, never mentioned underwater. He only asked them to swim 25 meters, rest 10 seconds, then swim again, repeating 20 times. After the session, I asked him why he did not focus on underwater technique. He smiled and said: "Underwater is just the tip of the iceberg. Without a physical foundation, good technique is useless." That answer made me think for a long time, and it changed how I view this sport. A 0-0 match has 47 details if you are calm enough to see them, and underwater is the same — it is just one of them, not everything. Looking to the future, I believe the development of technology will continue to push underwater to new heights. Biosensors, artificial intelligence, and big data will allow us to understand every movement of the body underwater better. But I also believe the most important thing remains balance. A swimmer cannot rely solely on underwater to win, just as a writer cannot rely solely on a good opening sentence to have a good article. There must be harmony between technique, physical fitness, tactics, and spirit. I have witnessed too many races decided by small details that spectators do not see. A stronger kick at the 12th meter, a breath at the right moment, a slight adjustment in body angle. These are what make the difference between a gold medal and a heartbreaking fourth place. And that is why I am still here, in front of a screen, rewinding footage to look for details that others miss. Swimming, at the highest level, is no longer a race of muscles. It is a race of analytical minds, patient hearts, and eyes that know how to look deeper than the surface. And I, as a storyteller, will continue to search for the stories that lie underwater — where the truth is often best hidden. The final question I want to ask you is: if underwater decides the fate of an entire race, then what is deciding the fate of our own lives? Perhaps, like swimming, the answer lies in what we do in the dark, when no one is watching.