Prince Antepim

Messages on the Tape

The second-year runner carries his reminders where he can see them.

Before Prince Antepim races, he tapes his fingers.

It’s an unusual track ritual, but he has reasons. The tape helps him pay attention to his hands and arms as he runs. He also writes messages on it—small reminders that he can do what the next difficult stretch demands.

Preparation, encouragement, and a little personal theatre. Prince has found a way to bring all three to the starting line.

The handwritten reminders make his mindset unusually visible. When fatigue arrives, there is something he put there deliberately, before the race had a chance to argue with him. The tape is a prompt to maintain form and to remember what he believes he can achieve.

The WWE soundtrack serves a similar purpose, on a considerably louder scale. As a kid, Prince watched entrance music turn wrestlers into people ready to handle whatever happened next. He still enjoys borrowing a little of that confidence. A starting line is not a wrestling ring, but he can appreciate the appeal of feeling prepared for an entrance.

His competitive life began long before his first indoor track season last year. Since childhood, he has immersed himself in sports: hockey, soccer, basketball, wrestling, football. He admires athletes who combine passion with technical mastery, and looks to Andre De Grasse and Noah Lyles for examples on the track.

High school football helped shape his understanding of the work. Long practices in heat and cold taught him that ambitious goals require repeated effort, including when the conditions make it difficult to be enthusiastic.

Now entering his second year of eligibility with St. Mary’s indoor track, his immediate goal is wonderfully uncomplicated.

“Get faster. Period.”

A provincial podium would be the ultimate reward, but improvement and helping teammates progress would make the season meaningful, too.

There is generosity inside that goal. Prince wants to become faster, and he wants to encourage the people training alongside him to do the same. The practice can be demanding without becoming an environment where everyone has to carry the demand alone.

High school football gave him a lasting understanding of consistency. Excellence was something coaches asked for in ordinary repetitions, through weather that offered little comfort. Track gives him another place to apply it. He wants to meet the task honestly, then keep enough positive energy available to make a teammate’s attempt easier.

When training gets hard, he thinks about how much effort has already brought him to that moment. There is another step available. He wants to take it.

The soundtrack remains WWE entrance music, especially Batista’s “I Walk Alone.” Childhood memories of wrestlers arriving like superheroes still supply useful pre-race confidence. Some athletes need quiet. Prince appreciates an entrance.

Away from sport, Prince has another way of thinking about effort and the people who came before him: history. He completed an undergraduate degree in the subject at the University of Calgary, and enjoys reading, writing, and considering what the past means for society. The runner who admires technical excellence is also someone willing to spend time understanding a story beyond its most memorable moment.

When he needs to reset, he can settle into Netflix or listen to an album from beginning to end. It gives the competitive part of the day a quieter companion. Even someone who enjoys approaching a race to wrestling entrance music can appreciate having somewhere calm to return.

His advice to younger athletes pairs honest effort with enjoyment. Give a task a real attempt, and remember that getting to play sport is a privilege.

He wants his teammates to remember energy, passion, and positivity. The tape carries the messages for him. Prince hopes his presence delivers the same thing to everyone else.