10/07/2026
Already 3 weeks away from Neptune Challenge. We miss the atmosphere that was simply extraordinarily fantastic.
We have received a race briefing from one of our 6 hour participants that we really would like to share. You may remember her. She did 6 times 1.5 km of breaststroke with less than 7 minutes of break between each round. The Neptune Challenge team remember Ewa very clearly, and she stands out as the leading example of what mental strenght can lead to. Also Ewa shows everybody that you can easily conquer the 6 hours challenge with few minutes of break - and with a smile on your face all the way.
Ewa, your story means alot to us!
Here is Ewa's description on pre, during and past Neptune 2027:
"
Neptune Challenge memories.
I dragged my feet for nearly a year before finally signing up for the Neptune Challenge. Naturally, I was plagued by visions of the brutal Øresund headwinds, towering waves, and a healthy dose of distance-induced anxiety.
Considering my entire open water pedigree consisted of just 5,2 km cross-Balaton in 2024 and 2 km Trygfonden canal-swim in 2025 I believed that all those solitary, uninterrupted, repeated ad nauseam daily trainings in a cozy, waveless pool will get me to the finish line at Amager Strandpark 6 times.
I made the final, irrevocable decision somewhere mid-stride during a 250 km trek along the Hebridean Way in late May. However, when I confidently logged onto the registration page and found the 6-lap distance unavailable, my heart sank. I assumed it was the "amateur-friendly" option and it sold out the quickest. Still, channeling my inner daredevil, I dropped an email to the organizers—only to discover that a pesky website glitch had been playing hide-and-seek with the entry form. A few days later the ticket to this rather formidable challenge landed safely in my inbox!
I politely warned the organizers I’d be the slowest participant, clocking in at around 50 minutes per lap. As the lone breaststroker—due to an anatomical quirk that bans me from freestyle—I didn’t want to lose my rhythm. Fortunately, I was in no danger of overly long pauses between laps!
A breezy 5-12 minutes is all it takes to sip some tea, wash away the salt, wolf down a protein bar, and pop a few dates. To some, that sounds like rushing, but as an air traffic controller with 30 years on the job, I know exactly how much magic you can work in a few dozen seconds. Even when Moby’s Extreme ways started blasting as I approached the finish of grueling fifth lap, I knew I’d clear the water before the track finished playing.
I didn’t count laps; I treated each one as a distinct entity. My trusty supporter diligently clocked my times at every buoy, giving me a tactical map of when to grind and when to coast. By lap two, I was naming the buoys. Sadly, I can’t share their names here—they were highly unprintable. Buoy number four was my nemesis: constantly fighting a headwind, I swore the distance stretched and the buoy was audaciously swimming away from me. I scolded it thoroughly in my head! Buoy five (the turnaround under the bridge) was both a curse—"hello, I'm getting swallowed by the peloton's wake again"—and a beacon of hope that I'd soon emerge to rapturous applause. Honestly? Those cheers were the best perk of finishing as the last.
Lap five threw me into a philosophical tailspin of absurd thoughts: "Why are there no fish?" "Why is this water so murky, rust-brown?" "Do some people skip the port-a-potties on land?" "I wonder if they've ever fished a co**se out of here..." "Why should I even be doing this 'social swim' if I'm just going to be a solitary, lonely fluo-green swim cap in the lagoon again?"
Slowly, I reached my usual maximum trained distance of 7.5 km and faced a choice. I was on the verge of quitting, but that goes against my stubborn grain. After all, I flew to Copenhagen to conquer 6 laps, not settle for 5! My day job definitely came in handy here: staying cool in a crisis, functioning at peak capacity for hours, locking in hyper-focus, and blocking out all distractions.
I nailed it!
I ruthlessly devoured an entire bag of Haribo gummies afterward. Surprisingly, nothing hurt—except my eyebrows from the swim goggles!
I’ll gladly be back at Amager Strand in just two weeks to actually admire the scene of my madness at a leisurely pace. I’m flying in for an intensive Danish course—a language I've been wrestling with for a year and a half. Why? For the exact same reason I swim. For the sheer fun of it!
"
We choose the water. No matter the distance.