It’s a familiar feeling walking into the Quah household for the first time. Tea-stained photographs of children plaster the stairwell leading to the second floor, chronicling a family’s history. A faded couch, likely a long-time resident of the living room, bears the burden of years of lounging. The sound of barking dogs in the back garden adds to the comfortable clutter of everyday life, speaking of days spent together—the beautiful mess. You would’ve never guessed this home houses three Olympians. That is, until you catch a glimpse of the three professional portraits of athletes proudly hanging in the living room.
For many Singaporeans, the Quah siblings are household names. Chances are, you've found yourself glued to the television, heart racing, as you cheered them on in international competitions. They are some of Singapore’s most accomplished swimmers, representing us on the world's biggest sporting stages. For the upcoming Olympics in Paris, however, despite their best efforts to compete together for the first time in an Olympic setting, only one of them has qualified. Eldest sister Quah Ting Wen and Quah Zheng Wen have been fixtures in the swimming world for more than a decade, yet it is their little sister, Jing Wen, who secured a spot.
At 27, Quah Zheng Wen finds himself in an unfamiliar position—watching from the sidelines as his sister prepares for her Olympic debut in Paris. “I feel sad; sad that I'm not there to experience her debut at the Olympic Games,” he confides, seated diagonally from me on his living room couch after a long day of filming. “I very much wished that this would have been the games that all three of us could go to together,” adds Quah, his eyes reflecting a mix of pride and wistfulness. “But I'm more proud than disappointed that I'm not there.”
He recalls his sister's tireless efforts to qualify for the previous Olympics in 2021, repeatedly attempting the gruelling 200-metre butterfly event before failing to qualify. “I felt incredibly sad that I was going without her,” he adds, “I remember thinking if there were an option to give up my spot for her, I would have.”
It's clear that family is of paramount importance to Quah. His greatest fear, he reveals, is the thought of losing his parents. This fear, he explains, has been a driving force in his life since he was young. "It's a big reason why I kind of want to start moving forward in my professional career, start being able to contribute more to the family so that my parents can kind of relax, retire, you know, do the things that they like, travel and enjoy life."
As an athlete closer to the end than the beginning, athletes like Quah face a unique challenge: the accelerated passage of time in their careers (and everything bad that comes with it). While the average person may not confront the physical effects of ageing until their hair greys and knees sore, athletes often hear whispers about their age by 30. Can Zheng Wen keep up with the younger swimmers? Zheng Wen should consider retirement to give the younger swimmers a chance. Quah is already past his peak. It hardly seems fair to label a 27-year-old as ageing, yet I’d wager this reality forces athletes to mature much faster than the average person.
"It's quite crazy," Zheng Wen begins, "your life as an athlete is compressed." He recounts his journey from being one of the youngest on the national team at 15 to suddenly finding himself the oldest male swimmer on Team Singapore. “I now stand almost completely alone at the age of 27,” he confides. “Even right now as we are speaking about it, that idea still seems foreign to me."
At only 27, it seems odd that Quah is already the oldest male swimmer on Team Singapore, especially given that this age often marks the peak for athletes in sports like basketball and football. When asked why this was, Quah attributes it to Singapore's intense academic culture and the corporate rat race where everyone’s racing to be ahead of each other. “To a lot of people, when you’re between 20 to 26, it's wasted time if you spend it doing sports because there's no money for one, there's no real progression, there's no kind of pathway out of sports into the working world.”
Perhaps this is why Quah finds himself in a situation where his younger counterparts are retiring as early as 18. Or maybe it’s due to the fact that no one younger has been able to outswim the UC Berkeley alum yet. “That’s one of the reasons why I'm still in it. I mean, if I can't be the best here, then I can't be the best anywhere, right?”
In the world of competition, it’s tempting to look at someone younger and feel a need to be better than them. The natural inclination is to believe that your greater experience and longer track record of winning should give you an edge. Plus, it's all too easy to imagine what these newcomers were doing when you were their age and write them off.
Quah, however, takes a different approach. Reflecting on his time training at UC Berkeley alongside Olympians and world record holders, he remembers the first time a younger swimmer outpaced him. “Even though they're younger, I never saw them as less of a threat, you know, I respected all of them equally.”
A mindset like this was vital during Quah’s journey through National Service. A series of deferments meant he was conscripted several years later than his peers, placing him in a platoon filled with individuals six years his junior. "It felt odd at first," Quah admitted. "I mean, you know, a lot of my sergeants and superiors were guys younger than me." However, Quah's experiences in competitive swimming where he'd learned to respect all opponents regardless of age prepared him well for this unusual dynamic. With a chuckle, he adds, "Men, you know, we don't really grow up too much, right? Men will always be boys."
Life imitates art, but is it a stretch to suggest that life also imitates sports? At 16, he set a national record in the 400m individual medley and made the Olympic squad, fighting to prove himself in London. By 20, he became the first Singaporean male to reach an Olympic swimming semi-final, placing 15th and 10th in butterfly events. Later, he’d forever etch his name into the front page of the history books, becoming Singapore’s most-medalled male swimmer.
Yet in 2024, despite the achievements, Quah finds himself, once again, needing to prove his worth after missing Olympic qualification. It’s a cycle akin to the human experience: bare and vulnerable we arrive, bare and vulnerable we depart; just as athletes begin and end their careers battling to prove themselves. In the case of Quah, silencing pundits isn’t his only hurdle, he’s also racing against the decay of time—which begs the question: with Father Time as his challenger, how fiercely will he swim this final lap?
“The older, more experienced and better at the sport you are, the harder it is to find those small things to change that get you that little fraction of more time,” he says. “But undeniably, I have to try, I have to try extremely hard."
His voice carries a mix of determination and wonder, "But that's the beauty, right? We never know the limit, we always believe that there's that 1 per cent we can change, that can make a difference to bring out a performance better than any you've ever put out before." True to his words, in his most recent swim before this interview, he achieved his fastest time of the entire year. “I'm proud to say that I never gave up.”
Given Quah's mindset, one might naturally expect him to pursue a spot in the 2028 Olympics. Yet, reality intrudes. “I think it's hard to say, in four years I’ll be 32,” he says with a tinge of wistfulness. “I do want to be able to contribute to my family financially and have my parents be in a comfortable spot but I think right now unfortunately in Singapore we're just not in a spot where we're able to push athletes for that long of a period.”
In that case, what’s next? Having studied neurobiology at UC Berkeley, Quah had aspirations of eventually becoming a doctor like his father but his perspective has shifted. “It was a long-time dream of mine,” he admitted. “But I just don't think med school is in the cards really for me anymore.” Quah appears content with this shift, adding, "I've learned to be okay with that."
To adapt and find peace in letting go speaks to a deeper maturity, one that Quah attributes in part to the life lessons swimming has taught him. “I used to think that winning was everything,” he admits. “Results were everything and anything less than that would be a loss.” This mentality drove him towards excellence for years.
Yet, as he’s matured as an athlete, he’s come to realise that the countless hours spent training with teammates chasing the same goals, the camaraderie—the journey, is equally as important. But perhaps the most valuable lesson swimming has taught him is gratitude. "Cherish every moment," he says, "because once it's gone, it's gone forever."
At present, Quah hopes to use his platform to encourage the younger generations of swimmers and to progress sports in Singapore. “In the past, I would’ve been like why would I want to do this (8-hour shoot)? I’d rather train, I’d rather be eating, I’d rather be sleeping. I could hang out with my friends,” he reflects, then adds with a self-deprecating chuckle, "Okay, not so much that one lah because I didn’t have a social life.” He goes on, “but I think this is an opportunity for me to share my experiences and show that it's possible to swim longer than five years.”
Singapore is quick to applaud its sporting heroes but tends to forget them when they stumble. In a sport like swimming, where losses far outnumber wins, is it fair to expect athletes to excel consistently without adequate support during challenging times? One can’t help but wonder: Is there a world where Singaporean athletes are rewarded when they win and supported when they lose?
Perhaps in that world, this interview might have taken a different direction—I would have asked him about the Olympics in 2028. Maybe Quah would have felt more confident about his Olympic future; spoken with optimism and determination about his training plans and goals for the next four years.
Regardless, there is no use dwelling in hypotheticals—the focus must remain on the present and the tangible future. Whether or not Quah competes in the 2028 Olympics, his influence on Singapore's sporting landscape is undeniable and will continue to be felt long after he hangs up his goggles.
Director of Photography: Jaya Khidir
Director and Editor: Nowo Kasturi
Creative Direction: Asri Jasman
Grooming: Christian M
Gaffer: Fang Yuan
Grips: Amos Elijah Lee, Ern Quek, Guo Wei, and Timothy Lim
Production Assistants: Ng Kai Ming and Syed Abdullah
Watch: Samsung Galaxy Watch Ultra
Locations: Hideout and COMO Orchard
Animation: Joan Tai
