You keep pushing and pushing, trying to shave a second off a lap time or be prepared for a perfect tumbleturn.

So you keep your head down – you manage your breathing.

You hold on as that pressure builds in your chest.

There’s a voice in your head telling you to turn your head, but you ignore it.

Then, finally, you’re ready.

You take that breath as if feels like you’re about to burst – the relief is palpable, but fleeting as you submerge once again, powering down the lane.

That feeling is the closest anyone will get to the sweetest breath Rod Marshdale ever took, but the reality is that it isn’t close whatsoever. 

The 14^th and 15^th of January marked a strange anniversary for Rod.

They are they days he learned to breathe for the first time in more than 20 years.

Diagnosed with cystic fibrosis before his tenth birthday, Rod's life has been a constant struggle between his desire to simply live, and the hard realities of chronic disease. 

On more than one occasion he was at death's door, but each time he was able to keep it at bay.

You wouldn't think that if you saw him cutting laps of the pool each day, or getting out on his bike regularly. 

Four years ago Rod got a call on January 14. “We have a set of lungs for you. Get to Sydney as soon as possible”.

On the 15^th of January the operation was completed, and successful. 

He went from getting less than a litre of fresh air in his lungs with each breath to getting more than five.

Rod had a new lease on life, one he wasn't going to take for granted.

“It was like being stuck in first gear,” he said of the illness.

“Then all of a sudden I had a second gear, and third and a fourth, even a fifth.

“It felt endless – I really can't put it into words.”

In keeping with the engine analogy, once he started revving, Rod wasted no time putting the pedal to the metal.

He's made completing a full Ironman challenge – 3.8-kilometre swim, 180-kilometre bike ride and 42-kilometre run, all in less than 17 hours – his ultimate goal.

Progress has been swift, too. 

He's already completed several triathlons and other distance events since his successful surgery. 

A countless cast of friends, family and medical experts helped Rod hang on when things were at their worst, but chief among them are his two sons, Jesse and Ben. 

They were the driving force behind his survival, helping their father with his daily therapy, even when he was confined to a wheelchair.

“One of the first things I remember was watching the movie Dumb and Dumber with my sons only four or five days after the transplant,” Rod said.

“I remember trying not to laugh, but eventually I just started belly laughing.

“Both my boys stopped, they said they'd never heard me laugh so deeply.”

In many ways, Rod bucks the trend for people diagnosed with cystic fibrosis.

First and foremost, even before his successful transplant, he has lived well beyond the average life expectancy for those with the disease.

Secondly, and perhaps most noticeably, if you didn't know Rod had a chronic illness when you met him, you'd never guess.

He's tall, quite lean, and seems to approach everything he does with an almost childlike energy, which borders on feverish.

There is also a charming frankness to him, a sense of comfort and acceptance of his lot in life that can be quite disarming.

That candour comes from the heart – his motivation for taking on these extreme physical challenges is to be a beacon for fellow sufferers of cystic fibrosis.

His knowledge of the disease is nigh-on encyclopedic, as you'd expect, but it's his honestly about coming to grips with who he is that is especially compelling.

During his many, many admissions to hospital he was twice admitted to the mental health unit. What once was seen as a failure, Rod now considers liberating.

“I didn’t have to pretend to be strong, I could just be who I wanted,” he said.

“And I found strength in that, I liked it.

“I’m still adapting to day-to-day life after the operation, to tell you the truth. 

“I withdrew from society, now I need to get back into it.

“Four years on I have a totally different set of parameters.” 

Rod moved to the Border in May last year to be closer to his parents.

Now 47 years old, he quickly reached out to local support group Border Cystic Fibrosis, helping them out with various fundraisers.

Founding member of the group Helen Aylward, whose own son is beginning a workup for a his own lung transplant, said Rod’s story was quite inspiring.

“I think it’s amazing,” she said.

“He has come into the group and straight away helped us out.”  

As the parent of a (now adult) child with cystic fibrosis, Helen understands Rod’s desire to try and inspire others battling the disease.

“People deal with things in different ways,” she said.

“The ones in our group need that support and contact, but a lot try to deal with it on their own.

“It has been important, even now our son is older, to meet and talk to people who know what you're going through.”

Border Cystic Fibrosis raises money to either pay for or subsidise a wide variety of treatment and travel costs for local families.

The support group has been going strong for 29 years, but Helen says there are many more families throughout the region that could benefit from support who aren't currently a part of the organisation.

“Most of us in the group at the moment, we know there are more people out there,” she said.

“We've tried a lot in the past to get more of them involved.”

What Rod's inspirational aspirations and Border CF's tangible financial support have in common is their ability to treat non-physical symptoms.

Financial support helps alleviate pressure and stress on families, enabling them to concentrate on simply living.

As far as Rod's tale of overcoming the odds, he believes seeing light at the end of the tunnel, even the faintest glimmer, can have a profound effect.

“People think with their heart, and that belief is pretty powerful,” he said.

While he has his sights set on greater goals, in the short term he's focusing on helping another young CF patient through her own ambitious exercise goals.

Having spent a life going in and out of hospital, Rod has made plenty of friends in the same position as him – holding on for dear life, waiting to hear about a potential transplant.

In February, he'll team up with another young CF sufferer for the 65K for 65 Roses Walkathon.

His young protege will walk 21 kilometres, while he'll complete the remaining 44, bringing the pair's total distance travelled to 65 kilometres, the length of an ultra-marathon.

If you'd told a teenage Rod of the feats he'd achieve as an adult, he wouldn't have believed you.

In addition to the Walkathon, he's participating in an Olympic distance triathlon in Canberra, the Forster Ultimate Triathlon in March, before attempting the Iron Man 70.3 in Port Macquarie in May.

Then, in August, he'll represent Australia at the World Transplant Games in England.

It'll be the second time donning the green and gold, after first representing the country in Spain, back in 2017.

Talk about a packed schedule.

His participation in the transplant games is also a reminder of his other cause celebré, organ donation.

With so much ahead of him, Rod remains thankful, each and every day, for the stranger who chose to donate their organs, enabling him to live his life to the fullest.

If he had one wish, it would be for people to become organ donors.