The Man Who Held His Breath for 24 Minutes.

In the quiet, chlorinated stillness of a swimming pool in Sisak, Croatia, a 60-year-old man named Budimir Šobat prepared to do something that defies every biological instinct ingrained in the human species. To the casual observer, the scene was one of serene inactivity, but beneath the surface of the water, a physiological war was being waged. Šobat, known to his friends as "Buda," was not merely swimming or floating; he was suspended in a state of voluntary suspended animation, a feat that would eventually see him shatter the Guinness World Record for static apnea with oxygen pre-breathing. By the time he finally broke the surface and took his first gasping inhalation, the stopwatch read 24 minutes and 37.36 seconds. This extraordinary moment, and the profound, heart-wrenching motivation behind it, serves as the centerpiece of the latest "Long Read" on the Outside Podcast, which adapts a deep-dive profile by writer Sean Williams.

To understand the magnitude of Šobat’s achievement, one must first understand the brutal science of breath-holding. For the average human, the urge to breathe becomes an agonizing command after about sixty to ninety seconds. This is not triggered by a lack of oxygen, but by the buildup of carbon dioxide (CO2) in the bloodstream, which acidifies the blood and sends frantic signals to the brain’s respiratory center. As the CO2 levels climb, the body enters the "struggle phase," characterized by violent, involuntary spasms of the diaphragm—the body’s desperate attempt to kickstart the lungs. Most people succumb to this panic almost immediately. Budimir Šobat, however, has spent years training his mind to treat these spasms not as an emergency, but as a rhythm to be observed with detached curiosity.

Williams’ profile paints Šobat as a figure possessing a "superpower" reminiscent of the X-Men comics—a comparison that isn’t hyperbole when one considers the physiological shifts he undergoes. When Šobat submerges, he triggers the "mammalian dive reflex," an evolutionary vestige we share with whales and seals. His heart rate drops to a fraction of its normal resting state—a condition known as bradycardia. His peripheral blood vessels constrict, shunting oxygen-rich blood away from his limbs and toward his brain and heart. In this state, Šobat’s metabolic rate slows to a crawl, allowing him to survive on the massive reservoir of oxygen he banked during his pre-dive preparation.

The specific discipline Šobat competes in is known as Static Apnea O2. Unlike standard static apnea, where a diver breathes normal air before submerging, this category allows the athlete to breathe 100% medical-grade oxygen for up to 30 minutes before the clock starts. This process flushes nitrogen from the system and saturates the body’s tissues and blood with a surplus of life-sustaining gas. While some purists in the freediving community view the use of supplemental oxygen as a separate curiosity, the physical and mental toll remains staggering. Even with a tank full of oxygen, the human brain is not designed to remain submerged and motionless for nearly half an hour. The risk of a "blackout"—a sudden loss of consciousness that can lead to drowning or permanent neurological damage—is ever-present.

However, for Šobat, the technicalities of the record were always secondary to the "why." The driving force behind his descent into the silence of the water is his daughter, Saša. Now a young woman, Saša lives with cerebral palsy, a condition that requires constant, around-the-clock care. She is non-verbal and faces a lifetime of physical challenges. For decades, Budimir and his wife have dedicated their lives to her well-being, navigating a world of medical appointments, specialized therapies, and the relentless physical demands of caregiving.

In the Outside Podcast, the narrative explores the poetic and painful symmetry between Šobat’s sport and his life as a father. To care for Saša, Šobat had to develop a level of patience and endurance that few can fathom. The "obsessive world" he inhabits is not just one of pool lengths and lung expansion; it is one of quiet, repetitive service. He realized early on that his ability to hold his breath could be a platform. By pushing his body to the absolute limit, he could raise money for the Room of Wonders (Soba Čuda), a therapeutic center for children with disabilities in his hometown that was severely damaged during an earthquake. His 24-minute record was not an act of ego, but a calculated effort to bring visibility to a community that is often overlooked.

The transition from bodybuilder to world-record freediver was an unlikely path for Šobat. In his younger years, he was a massive man, built for power and explosive strength. Traditional freedivers tend to be lean, with low muscle mass to minimize oxygen consumption, as muscle tissue is "expensive" to maintain underwater. Šobat’s success challenged the conventional wisdom of the sport. He proved that through sheer psychological grit and a unique mastery of his own nervous system, he could overcome the metabolic disadvantages of his physique. He learned to "soften" his mind, entering a meditative state so deep that his perception of time dissolved. In the podcast, listeners are invited to imagine the sensory deprivation of those twenty-four minutes: the muffled sounds of the pool, the weightlessness, and the internal dialogue required to stay calm while the lungs scream for air.

Experts in sports physiology often point to Šobat as a case study in human plasticity. Dr. Erika Schagatay, a leading researcher in the physiology of freediving, has noted that elite divers like Šobat develop "spleen contraction," where the spleen acts as a biological scuba tank, injecting a surge of oxygen-carrying red blood cells into the circulation during a long hold. But even with these biological advantages, the mental component is the ultimate arbiter of success. Williams describes Šobat’s training as a form of "extreme stoicism." He is not fighting the water; he is yielding to it.

The record-breaking event in 2021 was a culmination of this philosophy. Surrounded by doctors, judges, and a small, socially distanced crowd, Šobat lay face down in the water. For the first ten minutes, he was at peace. By the fifteen-minute mark, the diaphragm contractions began—rhythmic, jarring thumps visible in his back. By twenty minutes, he was in a territory where very few humans have ever ventured while conscious. The final four minutes were a testament to the human spirit. When he finally surfaced, he didn’t just break a record; he proved that the boundaries of human capability are often further than we dare to imagine.

The Outside Podcast "Long Read" does more than just recount the statistics of the dive; it delves into the "complicated world" of a man who finds his greatest strength in his vulnerability as a father. Williams’ reporting highlights how Šobat’s superpower is not actually his lung capacity, but his capacity for love. Every second he spent underwater was a second dedicated to Saša, a way of telling the world that those with disabilities deserve the same relentless effort and attention that he gave to his record.

In the years following his record, Šobat has become a symbol of resilience in Croatia and beyond. At 60 years old, an age when most athletes have long since retired, he continues to push the narrative of what "middle age" can look like. He remains a vocal advocate for children with special needs, using his fame to ensure that the "Room of Wonders" can continue its vital work.

The story of Budimir Šobat serves as a profound reminder that the most impressive human feats are rarely about the trophy or the entry in a record book. They are about the internal architecture of the person performing them. Through the lens of the Outside Podcast, listeners are granted a rare glimpse into the psyche of a man who found a way to turn the simple, biological act of not breathing into a profound statement of devotion. As the world moves faster and becomes louder, Šobat’s 24 minutes of silence stand as a monument to the power of the human will and the lengths a father will go to for his child. Whether he ever attempts to break his own record again is irrelevant; he has already achieved the impossible, both in the water and in the quiet, heroic halls of his own home.