Right after grabbing silver in the Tokyo 2021 triathlon, Alex Yee didn’t want to hear the same old praise about his running. Everyone knew he had the legs, but the real challenge was in the water—his biggest obstacle. Fast forward two years, and Yee’s victory at the Paris 2024 Olympics came from a place nobody expected: he’d become a genuine force in swimming, turning a career-long Achilles’ heel into an unstoppable weapon.
Back in Loughborough, Yee and his coach didn’t waste time. They ripped apart his swimming technique from the ground up, zeroing in on every detail. Strokes got adjusted to slice through rougher currents, a must for the unpredictable Seine. Pool drills weren’t just about laps, but about building the arm and back endurance you need when a wetsuit feels like it’s weighing you down. They stacked up specific strength training—plenty of lat and trap work—to handle tough swims and stay smooth and controlled no matter the conditions.
But it wasn’t only about brute force. Yee’s training included tough open-water sessions where he could get a sense for real-race chaos. His Loughborough training group worked together, fueling a competitive but supportive environment. The team tracked metrics obsessively, analyzing stroke angles and body position to shave off wasted effort.
Building a better swimmer wasn’t just about muscles and drills. Yee’s team wove in psychological strategies from sports psychology sessions to race-day routines. They knew that being able to handle stress—especially when caught in a tight group battling a strong current—would be just as important as physical prep. Their goal wasn’t hype or bravado, but a calm, methodical approach that built real confidence for the Olympic stage.
The proof showed the moment Yee hit the exit ramp of the swim in Paris. This time, he wasn’t struggling to catch up but leading the chase: a staggering 23 seconds ahead of his rival Kristian Blummenfelt. The gap, especially compared to his Tokyo deficit, represented more than just time—it was all the early mornings, detailed data sessions, and drained muscles suddenly paying off in the most public way possible.
Competitors and coaches across the triathlon circuit took notice. They called his improvement a textbook case of what happens when you go after your weakness with total focus. With his old swimming struggles out of the picture, Yee could tap into the run that made him famous—now with a head start nobody could overcome. From silver to gold, the difference came not from his signature kick, but from years of grinding it out in the water, chasing a gold that felt more possible with every perfectly executed stroke.