Pinoy aquarantined

Today I write about a good fellow who makes waves in the open seas for six years now, here and overseas, until corona stunned the world to a stand still. Ingemar Macarine, more known as the Pinoy Aquaman for swimming channels in the name of marine conservation, his personal environmental advocacy.

Let me point out a few things we share in common. Not that I like to write about me, but only to premise my vantage point, by writing about me. Aside from being lawyers and election officers, we both hail from Surigao and gave up drinking poison. He ditched alcohol for three years now, not the substance panic buyers grapple for, but the one that many now thirst for, excluding me.

Although hope is not a strategy, I hope to follow his monumental example of a middle age lifestyle, squeaky clean without a vice, except lying about it. I cleaned up one mess too. I gave up soda a dozen years ago. Yes, it’s doable, greasy, irresistible, sinful pizza and all.

We are both into sports. But there lies the big difference. I play tennis, unknown to many. But I suck in the court, unknown to many more, while he is buoyed by grace and strength combined when he swims in the ocean by his lonesome, except a couple of escort boats.

Quite a number of other open water tankers in the country swim to compete while he crosses the sea to celebrate. He is the only Filipino to swim for a cause from one island to another, especially uncharted depth of mystery.

Fearless, he swims the distance, not the boring repetitive laps in a secure structured pool, but kilometers in open seawaters where danger lurks down under. He doesn’t mind the sharks, he dared dip into a shark-infested deep at his first endurance swim. He says shark attacks are rare and human flesh is not part of their menu. Such discriminating taste, exactly why we should stop calling lenders who cash in on the misery of others as loan sharks. It downright condescends on their misunderstood specie, even if they love to stay deep down the ocean bed.

His inaugural swim hugged the headlines, but for a reason unlike what today he is known for. He and his triathlon teammates swam to prepare for Ironman, but the publicity did not feed his ego of a man. It made him even more selfless, dedicating each swim to float marine life awareness. Such nobility, while many desperately scream for attention, he diverts it to conservation. Listen in, attention-starved netizens.

A teammate called him Pinoy Aquaman and it stuck to the merman. Identifiable, especially by kids who should understand what he swims for. Maybe he hasn’t realized this, but he was named for what he would swim for in the future, marine, which combines the last three letters of his first name and surname. It also honors the largest portion of the planet he campaigns to protect to achieve his wet dream for the generations to come. It’s not what you’re thinking.

 The farthest distance he swam was 24-kilometers from Dumaguete City to Siquijor that lasted 11 hours to promote voter’s registration, a testament at how election officers implore the electorate to register early, only to be ignored and blamed for their last minute misery.

Distance aside, either a strong current, bad weather or freezing temperature aborted at least three of his many swim attempts. After swimming four kilometers in the English Channel, deteriorating weather condition forced him out of the 15-degree cold salt water. Even more challenged, he targets to swim the channel again in two years. But that might wait longer because of corona.

When the crown is away blown, swim the distance again nyor. Continue to do us proud. I can only write about it awed. Way to go, buoy. While I’m stuck in tennis mediocrity. Lower, delusion of agility.