How One Pool Shaped a Lifetime of Adventure

At the recent reopening of the Glennie Aquatic Centre, we had the privilege of welcoming back Glennie alumni Katie Clewett (GOG 2001) to share her remarkable story. We are thrilled to share her powerful address with you below.

Thirty-three years ago, in 1994, I was one of the first people to dive into the Glennie Aquatic Centre, which was born from the vision of the then Principal, Mr Mike Norris.

And to Mike, I would like to take this opportunity to personally thank you for your foresight in establishing the original setting for this story – my story – which I will share with you today.

At the time, in 1994, this was no ordinary school swimming pool. It was a 10-lane, 25-metre, indoor, heated, high-performance complex with electronic timing. A phenomenal facility that previously could only be found in major capital cities. It was certainly not common in regional areas, or, for that matter, in school swimming pools.

The centre opened its doors just six years shy of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games and placed at its helm was Ian “Finnie” Findlay, a coach whose own career had taken him to the highest levels of Australian swimming.

I was nine years old at this time.

My parents, Tim and Jan, who are here with me today, chose Glennie as the school for me to begin Grade 5, and this pool was a major part of that decision.

Because, at nine years old, I had a dream.

And I didn’t merely hope that I might achieve it. I was determined that I would.

To many, a swimming pool is simply a four-walled complex composed of concrete and bricks that houses a pool of water, all perfumed with the pungent smell of chlorine.

But to me, and to many of the people in this room, a swimming pool was much more than that.

It was an opportunity.

A pathway towards my dream, certainly, but also towards something much bigger. An opportunity to discover what I was capable of and a setting in my quest to become all that I can be.

Glennie Old Girl Katie Clewett (GOG 2001) with Glennie students Ellyn, Olivia, and Annabelle at the official re-opening and blessing of The Glennie School Aquatic Centre in October, 2026.

Mr Casio and the Mexican Wave

Within two years of opening, the Glennie Aquatic Centre became home to the largest swimming club in Queensland. Much of that success can be attributed not only to the facility itself, but also to one extraordinary man: Ian Findlay, affectionately known to generations of Glennie girls as Finnie.

Finnie was a force of nature.

Anyone who knew him was, in some way, pulled into his orbit, almost as though he possessed his own gravitational field.

At the end of 1994, Finnie decided that the Glennie Aquatic Centre and its world-class electronic timing system needed to etch themselves into the Queensland swimming record books, and he wanted the Queensland record to be set by a Glennie student.

And, for reasons that still make me smile, that Glennie student was me.

I was in Grade 5.

It was decided that, at a Friday night club meet, I would race against the new electronic timing system. Mr Casio himself. And attempt to break the Queensland 10-year-old record for the 200-metre freestyle.

Now, the 200-metre freestyle was not my favourite event, but Finnie had decided that this was the record we were going after, and when Finnie decided something, you generally went along with it.

In true Finnie fashion, he turned the race into an occasion.

He had everyone in the grandstand cheering. He orchestrated a Mexican wave. And he insisted that I swim in the lane closest to the grandstand so that, with every breath I took, I would be met by the sight of his flailing arms and the roar of the crowd.

When I touched the wall, I was immediately greeted by a Finnie-sized wave as he jumped into the pool – fully clothed, glasses, shoes and all.

A Podium Finish

In 1998, as a Year 9 student, I was one of four Glennie girls who travelled to Adelaide to compete at the Australian Swimming Championships.

Whilst we had many other races on the program, our relay team entered the meet as the two-time defending Australian champions in the 4 x 50-metre medley relay.

But this year, we weren’t just going for gold.

We wanted our names etched into the Australian record books.

Kerry Zeifert, Kimberley Bugden, Penny Stower and myself had been working exceptionally hard in training.

We stayed behind after each session, practising our relay changeovers over and over again — because when four swimmers are separated by hundredths of a second, the smallest detail can make the difference.

On the night of the relay, each of us swam a personal best.

When we returned to school the following week, Finnie decided that this achievement deserved an appropriate Glennie celebration.

He arrived at our very formal school assembly dressed in the Glennie Gator costume.

Somewhere between the School hymn and the Principal’s address, the Gator appeared on stage.

Finnie began his ascent to the podium by yelling, “Go Glennie! Go!”

And, within moments, every girl in the room was on her feet, joining in the chant.

In contrast to the usual assembly etiquette, Finnie announced that the entire school was to create a drumroll by banging on their chairs and stamping their feet as he presented each of us with our Australian Championship medals.

It was completely irreverent, entirely Finnie, and utterly unforgettable.

Learning to Love the Pain

One of Finnie’s favourite quotes was, “Champions learn to love the pain,” and throughout my schooling, I was given a masterclass in how to do just that.

A typical day as a Glennie girl began at 4:50am.

At 5:00am, I would leave home, with Mum driving me the 25 minutes into Toowoomba, ready to begin training at 5:30am.

And to Mum, I thank you even today for your commitment to my dream.

Two hours of grueling laps later, we would finally climb out of the pool and attempt to wash the chlorine off before adorning our uniforms and ambling up the hill to boarders’ breakfast.

We had our own special swimmers’ table in the back corner of the dining hall.

And we certainly made the most of it.

We would consume an absurd amount of food. Enough to leave our table littered with an impressive number of plates and inevitably earning bemused glances from our boarding friends.

By 8:30am, it was off to classes for the day.

At 3:00pm, I would often attend sporting activities of the land-based type: tennis lessons, netball practice, softball, gymnastics, touch football, cross country or athletics on our brand-new tartan track.

Whilst I represented the Darling Downs in several other sports, it became increasingly clear that the aquatic environment was where my true love lay.

At the same time, Glennie gave me the opportunity to have a go. To build my skills and to try something new.

At 4:15pm, it was time to wander back down the hill, where we would jump back into the pool for another two hours of Finnie’s particular brand of torture.

More laps.

More pain.

More perseverance.

At 6:30pm, Mum would pick me up.

Then it was time to eat, sleep – and do it all again the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Chasing the Olympic Dream

One of my favourite quotes is that there are no easy roads to success.

And for me, those thousands of hours in the water, in this remarkable facility, became the foundation for everything that followed.

From Grade 5 through Grade 12, I was selected every year in the Queensland swimming team, often medaling across all four strokes, and going on to become age champion at the Australian Championships.

In Grade 9, at the Queensland State Championships, I set three long-course records in the 50-metre butterfly, 50-metre breaststroke and 100-metre breaststroke.

Twenty-two years later, when I returned to that same event representing the Sunshine Coast as team manager, those same breaststroke records were still standing.

In Grade 10, I received my first official Australian team tracksuit.

After some great performances at the Australian titles, I had made my first Australian Open team to attend the World Cup swim meets in the Americas.

I travelled from Edmonton in Canada to Rio de Janeiro in South America over a three-week period, winning a silver and two bronze medals in breaststroke events.

In this year, I was also awarded Darling Downs Junior Sports Star of the Year.

In Grade 11, I represented Australia at the Oceania Championships and attended the Sydney Olympic trials.

And whilst I made the finals of the 100-metre and 200-metre breaststroke, I did not make the Australian Olympic team.

Unfortunately, I would never represent Australia at the Sydney Olympics.

Devastated and consumed by disappointment, it was the first time I began to wonder:

Were all those laps worth it?

Was all that pain, time and hard work leading anywhere?

Reflection

Now, if I could go back in time and look that young girl in the eye, I think I would see something she could not yet see for herself.

I would see a girl who had honed her time management and organisational skills to an art – skills that would allow her to fit more into a day than most people think possible.

I would see a girl who had learned to pursue her personal best with integrity: to work hard, to listen to advice, to accept feedback, to seek support, and to keep striving for excellence.

I would see a girl who had developed the courage to step onto a starting block even when she was nervous, under pressure, unwell or anxious.

And in doing so, she had built a repertoire of strategies she could draw upon whenever life asked her to do something difficult – whether that was sitting an exam, standing behind a lectern to deliver a speech, or walking into an interview.

But perhaps most importantly, I would see a girl who had earned these qualities.

They weren’t given to her.

They were forged – one early morning, one difficult training session, one setback, one goal, one race and one decision to get back in the water at a time.

And these qualities became the building blocks for a life that could be a success – even when success didn’t look the way that nine-year-old girl had imagined it would.

Life After Swimming

At the end of 2001, after my final Year 12 English exam, I jumped into the Glennie pool, fully clothed, with the rest of my classmates, for the last time as a Glennie student. And at this time, it would have been presumed that my swimming story would come to an end.

But no.

In this story, this is where it began.

In 2002, towards the end of an otherwise ordinary day, I answered the phone.

An American voice on the other end introduced himself as Mike Anderson, the Head Coach of the University of Hawaiʻi swimming and diving team.

Mike proceeded to tell me he was calling to ask if I would be interested in a five-year, full scholarship to the University of Hawaiʻi to become the new breaststroke swimmer on their team in Hawaiʻi, in America.

For the first five minutes of that conversation, I remember trying to work out which of my friends had somehow managed to pull off such an elaborate and convincing prank.

Without resolution, I handed the phone to Mum, partly because I needed someone else to confirm that this was happening.

After that phone call, I reconfirmed exactly where Hawaiʻi was on the world map, and not long after that I found myself training and studying on a rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, in the heart of Polynesia, while travelling across the United States to race against the best swimmers in the world.

Many races, many medals and several records later, I graduated from the University of Hawaiʻi with an honors degree in Kinesiology and Exercise Science.

More important than any of the accolades that I received on this journey was who I became in the process, and the friendships I made along the way.

I became a lifeguard – first in Hawaiʻi and later on the Sunshine Coast.

After all those years of swimming laps, the fitness tests that had a workforce made up of 97 per cent men groaning about their difficulty were, surprisingly, rather easy.

I became a surfer and have spent the rest of my life since venturing to the Pacific on a quest to surf some of the best waves I can find across the globe from Hawaiʻi to Tahiti, Indonesia to Mauritius.

Paddling, it seems, came naturally.

I became a freediver and scuba diver, using flippers to hang out with humpback whales in French Polynesia, dive with dolphins in the Indian Ocean and glide alongside manta rays and tiger sharks in the Great Barrier Reef.

Those thousands of laps kicking were paying dividends.

Then I followed in my dad’s footsteps and became a windsurfer, armed with the life lessons I had learned long ago:

Try, try and try again.

Windsurfing led to kiteboarding, which led to kitesurfing, which led to foil boarding — and, hopefully, one day, into sailing my very own sailing boat around the world, just like Kay Cottee, who I studied in my very first year at Glennie in Grade 5.

Last year, I even had the courage to enter my first kitesurfing competition and was crowned State Champion, earning sponsorship with my favorite kitesurfing brand, F-One.

And somewhere along the way, I realised something.

The discipline transfers.

The resilience transfers.

The confidence transfers.

The willingness to get back up and try again transfers.

You have the building blocks of skills that pave the path to allow you to become all that you can be.

Opening Doors to the Future

As we gather here today to reopen the doors to the Glennie Aquatic Centre, we are not just opening the doors to a humble, four-walled concrete complex, housing bricks and a pool of water drenched in the pungent aroma of chlorine.

We are opening an opportunity.

An opportunity for thousands of Glennie students, just like me, to discover something within themselves that they may not yet know is there.

An opportunity for these students in this room to build confidence, resilience, courage and ambition.

An opportunity for these students to pursue dreams that they may never have imagined possible.

An opportunity for these students to pursue their personal best and, in the process, carry the lessons they learn in this pool, swimming each lap, with them for the rest of their lives.

And perhaps, even more importantly, an opportunity to discover a lifelong love of learning that will lead to a future that does not look exactly the way they imagined it would.

Because this pool will give these students far more than a place to swim.

It will give them the opportunity to become all that they can be.

And perhaps, just perhaps, that may even be much bigger, bolder and more beautiful than they ever dreamed possible.