Sometime between claiming Commonwealth Games double gold and winning a world championship crown, Lewis Clareburt lost the desire to be the best.
The 25-year-old is now a day away from the biggest night of his life: the 400m individual medley final at Paris La Defense Arena, where he will race for New Zealand’s first Olympic swimming medal in 28 years.
Clareburt boasts the world’s second-fastest time in 2024, an achievement to buoy hopes he can follow Danyon Loader and climb a podium traditionally too steep for Kiwis.
But during much of the Olympic cycle, while outsiders were forecasting his chances of ending this country’s long drought in the pool, Clareburt found his own ambitions dampened.
“The last couple of years have been tough,” he says. “I was probably at a point where I was trying to decide … I’m at the age where I’m getting a little bit older, and I’ve been in the sport for a while, and I was trying to find my motivation be the best. I lost a bit of that.”
The rediscovery process began in circumstances that could easily sink an athlete. It resulted in a better swimmer: passion reignited, Olympic pursuit renewed.
“It’s so nice to feel that,” Clareburt says, “and to go into Paris knowing I can race fast again.”
Born in Wellington, educated at Scots College, a support base ingrained and a beloved coach tied to the city, Clareburt never envisaged leaving the capital for Auckland.
Yet few could’ve foreseen a Commonwealth champion swimmer struggling so often for somewhere to swim.
Returning from Birmingham with two gold medals, a hero’s welcome was neither requested nor required, but consistently available lane space might have been nice.
Public facilities operated by Wellington City Council, however, failed to foster an environment conducive to the marginal gains Clareburt would need to make before Paris.
Lane bookings would be altered or cancelled at the Wellington Regional Aquatic Centre in Kilbirnie, the sole local option for practising in a 50-metre pool.
The disruptions prompted the intervention of Swimming NZ and High Performance Sport NZ; truce was brokered and a contract signed. But breaches continued to impede Clareburt’s progress — and progression was imperative.
The Kiwi had been far too good for the Commonwealth in 2022, taking 400 IM gold by more than a second. But sharing the Olympic pool will be American rivals established and emerging, along with a French phenom who seized the last and longest-held of Michael Phelps’ world records.
To reach the podium, Clareburt had to reach a level unattainable in Wellington: perfection. Staying afloat was difficult enough when mired in the kind of bureaucracy a high-performance athlete would reasonably expect to be beneath them.
A creeping malaise, in hindsight, was almost inevitable.
“The pool issues were a factor, for sure,” Clareburt says. “But there was a mixture of things. There might’ve been a few distractions around my pathway, but I feel like coming to Auckland and having that change has put me on the path again.
“I’ve found that motivation, and I have the environment now that actually pushes me to want to be the best.”
Searching for that environment far from home was a bold choice, one not without sacrifice. Friends and family and familiarity were left behind, in addition to another fixture in his life.
Coach Gary Hollywood had been integral in Clareburt’s ascendance from promising teen to prodigious talent. Their bond, built over myriad early mornings, was tough to break.
The coach confirmed as much last October. “Words cannot express how sad I feel about Lewis feeling he has to leave Wellington now just nine months out from the Olympics,” Hollywood wrote on Facebook. “Things could have been so different if we’d had access to a more positive training environment.”
Clareburt couldn’t help but reflect with similar wistfulness — notwithstanding his newfound contentment.
“I do miss Wellington,” he says. “I miss my family and all my friends down there; I had such a good little community I was based around. And I do miss Gary. He’s a funny guy. He’s a guy that most people would look at and be like, ‘How are you a swim coach?’ I do miss seeing him every day.
“I’m lucky that now I’m up in Auckland, I’ve got a really good environment and a good community that I’ve found myself in. It has made it a lot easier.”
On an ordinary morning at Sir Owen G. Glenn National Aquatic Centre, Mitch Nairn appears busier poolside than an Amity Island lifeguard on Fourth of July weekend.
A whistle in one hand and stopwatch the other, the coach patrols a corner of the facility while issuing diverse instruction to a dozen swimmers, including an Olympian looking supremely at ease.
That comfort, smoothing the move to an apartment in central Auckland, was hastened by Clareburt and his new coach having previously travelled together on international teams.
The 31-year-old Nairn is “one of the boys” — if a demanding member of the group.
“Mitch and I have a really good relationship,” Clareburt says. “I’ve known him a few years and I didn’t actually think he would ever end up being my coach. Looking back on it now, it’s quite funny how it’s all ended up.
“He’s been great, I’ve enjoyed his company and he’s awesome to travel with. He’s a mate but he works you hard and I’ve been super happy with how he’s been coaching me.
“And he works so hard — I don’t know if there’s many coaches in the world who do as much as he does for his athletes. It’s pretty inspiring.”
The hard work has aided Clareburt’s gradual regeneration during days split between the long-course facility on the North Shore and a 25-metre pool at Mt Albert Aquatic Centre.
Lane availability is no longer a concern — despite the crowd of swim caps within splashing distance — and Clareburt’s mood matches the sun-dappled pool as he interacts with Club 37 teammates, the camaraderie a happy byproduct of his relocation.
“Being able to train and travel with people who are likeminded, and have a huge group of us, is awesome,” Clareburt says. “I’m not the guy that everyone looks at; I’m just part of the group.
“It’s been really easy and it’s awesome turning up to training every day with people who are similar age to you and have the same goals.”
Clareburt’s immediate goal, in fairness, is a little loftier than most, and based on recent form he’s linked with a coach to lift him closer. As forensic attention has been applied to the swimmer’s backstroke and breaststroke, all-important milliseconds have been gained in the medley’s middle two legs.
“I’ve been working on my breaststroke pullout and my backstroke pull, because those were two areas where we realised I was losing a lot of ground,” Clareburt says. “If I can make a one or two per cent gain in those areas, then it’s going to be a huge benefit.”
That was apparent in May at the Sydney Open, where Clareburt won the 400 IM with a time of 4m 08.71 — 0.01 seconds off his personal best — despite not shaving or tapering off his training load in the manner he would in Paris.
It was faster than anyone swam in Tokyo, a second quicker than his world championship triumph in February, and the second-best time over the distance in 2024.
“I wasn’t surprised,” Nairn says. “It would’ve been nice to be under that Oceania record and his New Zealand record, but that put us in a real good spot.
“We put a really good marker down and a bit of a statement there to say: ‘What can you guys now do?’”
There was only one emphatic response to Clareburt’s statement swim.
With world-record holder and hometown favourite Leon Marchand competing over long-course rarely and likely within himself, last month’s US trials locked in another couple of contenders for gold.
As expected, reigning Olympic champion Chase Kalisz qualified by touching the wall in 4m 09.39s. Less anticipated, perhaps, was Carson Foster beating both his compatriot and Clareburt’s world-leading time, clocking 4m 07.64s to pull ahead of an elite field.
Foster was fourth when Clareburt started 2024 with world championship gold, the lustre of his prize slightly diminished in the absence of Marchand and Kalisz.
“Leon and Chase have been at the top of the world for a while. Those guys are the benchmark at the moment,” Clareburt says. “But going over to Australia and doing a really fast time that was only 0.01 off my personal best, it’s a nice confidence-booster heading into Paris.
“Even though I was still training under load and doing everything I would normally do on a weekly basis, to be able to throw a race in there and swim a fast time, I haven’t done that in a couple of years.”
Clareburt’s confidence was also bolstered by a trip last year to Arizona, where he practised alongside Marchand and Kalisz under the expert eye of coach Bob Bowman.
The American guided Phelps to two Olympic golds in the 400 IM — and 21 more in other events — before assembling something of a medley finishing school at Arizona State University.
“It is always interesting being able to train with your competitors,” Clareburt says. “A lot of other countries like to keep their athletes tucked away for other people not to see, especially what they’re doing during training. But they were pretty open and I could stand on the side of the pool and watch them, then do their sessions after them.
“I obviously took a few tips and tricks from what they were doing, but what we do compared to what they do is super similar. It was nice to go over there, see that and give yourself confidence that what you’re doing is actually the right thing.”
If any athlete is doing the right thing it is Marchand, after all. Having crept near Phelps’ 400 IM mark while winning a world championship in 2022, the Frenchman returned to that stage last July and knocked 1.34s off the world record.
But the 22-year-old hasn’t since come close to that stunning swim of 4m 02.50s, and in Paris expectations are high: the original schedule was changed when French officials lobbied to give Marchand more rest and a better chance of claiming the 200 butterfly and 200 breaststroke.
“Leon’s in an interesting position. Hometown Olympics, he’s the guy that everyone wants to beat,” says Clareburt, who will also face Marchand in the 200 IM and 200 butterfly. “It will be interesting to see how he’s going to handle the pressure of that moment.
“I know super well that in the Olympics you can’t write anyone off, because anything can happen.”
The capricious nature of the Games was established for Clareburt across 15 hours in Tokyo.
Making his Olympic debut in an empty arena, he first hinted in the 400 IM heats he could follow Loader on to the dais, qualifying second-fastest with a national record of 4m 09.49s.
Had he replicated that time in the next morning’s final, a dream would have been realised and silver medal won. Instead, hindered by a sleepless night, he faded to finish seventh, well back of Kalisz and narrowly behind a teenage Marchand.
“I’ve grown a lot since Tokyo,” Clareburt says. “I did struggle in Tokyo in the moment, and now, being three years older and with one Olympics under the belt, I know what to expect going in. I’m a lot more confident in my ability to do those small processes right.”
Small processes lead to big results, like becoming only the fifth Kiwi to earn an Olympic swimming medal. Although, before he hits the water, Clareburt may be settling for sixth, given Erika Fairweather will be battling for the podium in the 400m freestyle a day earlier.
New Zealand swimming’s two bright hopes have this year engaged in an ongoing duel — the first to crack 1m 55s in the 200 fly (Clareburt) or 200 free (Fairweather) collects $200 — without mentioning a race to Loader.
The Atlanta double gold medallist is hardly hidden: for Fairweather, when practising at Danyon Loader Pool in Dunedin; for Clareburt, when looking through a family album. Yet that historical record is more the space Loader occupies in his mind, mythical figure rather than primary motivation.
“Danyon, I’ve known since I was a tiny kid,” Clareburt says. “There’s a photo of me getting his signature on a swim cap, and it was an Australian swim cap. I don’t know why it was an Australian swim cap.
“I feel like it is a bit of a media frenzy around him. What he did in the sport for us was inspiring and we always do look up to him, but I feel like the sport has shifted so much since 1996.
“To do what he did again would be incredible — two gold medals at one Olympics would be next-level. I guess we don’t see it as unachievable, but we do see it as really hard.”
Which is not to suggest, even when Clareburt’s desire had waned, such heights ever entirely escaped his view.
“It would be awesome to be the next person on that step to get a medal for New Zealand. It’s been so long.”
Kris Shannon has been a sports journalist since 2011 and covers a variety of codes for the Herald. Reporting on Grant Elliott’s six at Eden Park in 2015 was a career highlight.
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