On September 16, 1976, world-champion finswimmer Shavarsh Karapetyan was finishing a 13-mile training run in Armenia when he suddenly heard a disturbing sound. A trolleybus had fallen

 On September 16, 1976, world-champion finswimmer Shavarsh Karapetyan was finishing a 13-mile training run in Armenia when he suddenly heard a disturbing sound. A trolleybus had fallen from a bridge into the frigid waters of a deep reservoir, plunging with a terrifying splash. Instinct, honed by years of intense training, immediately kicked in. Without a second thought for his exhausted muscles or the bone-chilling cold, Shavarsh dove into the murky depths.

The scene was pure chaos. People on the bridge screamed, but no one dared to enter the icy water. Shavarsh, with his incredible lung capacity and powerful finswimming legs, descended into the dark, silt-filled water. Visibility was zero. He relied on touch, feeling for the submerged bus, then for the windows.

He broke a window, pulled out a passenger, and with superhuman effort, swam back to the surface. He repeated this, again and again, diving into the freezing water, pulling out limp bodies, and bringing them to the frantic people on the shore. He made over 30 dives. He saved 20 lives. He was a hero, a legend, a testament to human courage and aquatic prowess. He practically redefined the concept of "training run."

Months later, after recovering from pneumonia and blood poisoning from the polluted water, a reporter finally managed to get an interview with the humble champion. The reporter, clearly in awe, asked, "Mr. Karapetyan, what was the most difficult part of that incredible rescue? The freezing water? The lack of visibility? The immense physical strain?"

Shavarsh paused, a thoughtful look on his face. He rubbed his chin, then finally, with a slight grimace, said, "Well, the water was cold, yes. And it was dark, that's true. But honestly, the hardest part was the sheer number of people who kept handing me their wet laundry and asking if I could just 'pop it in the bus dryer' on my next trip down! I'm a finswimmer, not a laundromat!"

The reporter stared, utterly bewildered, then burst into laughter. Shavarsh just shrugged. "A man saves 20 lives, and suddenly he's responsible for everyone's socks. The logic, it escapes me."