failure is key

I was thirteen,  and scared out of my mind I hadn’t eaten or drank all day because I let my nerves get the best of me, I was the lead leg on a relay team that way significantly faster than me and about to swim. Behind the blocks it is all chaos and disorganization swimmers screaming, caps and goggles breaking, tears of happiness and disappointment happening all at once. The next thing I know the buzzer goes off, and I’m not on the blocks.

                Leading up to this moment I trained for seven months about four days a week, in this time I endured some of the hardest sets I’ve ever seen, and felt it felt like death.   My coach and fellow team mates continually encouraged me and the rest of our relay team to keep pushing ourselves because it would be worth it. I swam in the golds group and was the youngest one, except for Seamus who is like super human; the older swimmers would lap me multiple times on longer sets, but in the end would hardly be out of breath, I was constantly amazed. Two days before our departure to RPI we all met up at Kate’s house to try and visualize the race, eat healthy food, and have some team bonding shenanigans, I’ve never felt more out of place. I was the only swimmer from New Paltz and an eighth grader meanwhile everyone else was in high school. The car ride to practice was even worse, I was stuck in between two of the fastest swimmers on the team who had just met me and clearly was not very happy I was on their team. As we pulled up to the pool I was practically half way out of the car in hopes of escaping their judgmental stares to escape to the chlorine infested locker room. Petrified, I reentered the pool deck, I felt like I was entering an execution and I was the dead man walking. My coach reassured me with an enormous hug and a warm smile, but it didn’t help because I was already getting stares for the swimmers already in the pool.

                The drive to RPI was awful I couldn’t sleep or think about everything else, it was like a permanent ball and chain wrapped around my legs, I couldn’t go anywhere without the stress. It took me about an hour and a half to squeeze on my new fastskin, let’s just say it was like trying to put a size eleven foot in a size five shoe. We all warmed up in the skin tight suits and got behind the blocks with our warm up suits on. This was mistake number one that haunts my nightmares; my second was not checking the heat sheets.

                After I realized what just happened I ripped off my sweatshirt, barely put on my cap and goggles and dove in tree seconds after everyone else. I forgot to take off my shorts and they decided to stick around for an entire lap before being flung off at my flip turn where I then caught up to the rest of the swimmers and managed to beat them to the wall. My head was spinning I had no idea what I just happened and I felt like I was drowning. 

                This experience has taught me many things and how to accept failure is one of them, not only did I let myself down, but my entire relay team which was almost too much for me to handle. I begged and pleaded to the officials crying my eyes out for a second chance, I was consistently denied. On the third and final day of the swim meet the Gods spoke and my coach, along with many of my team mates convinced the officials for a time trial. Even though we did eventually swim the relay I will always be known as the girl who swam with her shorts on; and I will ALWAYS be early to my events.  

this video is of me, two years later and the only female from my team swimming individual events, and made it back to finals in all of my events. because of my traumatic late start as a timid swimmer I am now stronger.