I swam competitively for 11 years of my life. In fact, swimming was my life for the longest time. Like any competitive swimmer will tell you, swimming consisted of countless 5 a.m. morning practices, getting told by classmates that you reek of chlorine on the daily, having your hair turn a different color, ten minute naps between practice and school, eating 4000+ calories a day, being constantly misunderstood by other athletes who think that all you do is splash around in a pool, constantly having to explain to people why swimmers are only able to shave right before their biggest competition of the season, pushing past the pain of not knowing whether you want to crying because you didn’t get enough sleep, you’re hungry, your coach made you swim 8x800s for time during practice, or a combination of all of the above, and if you’re lucky enough to swim for the club team which I swam for, 5 a.m. morning practices in an unheated 50 meter ice bath at the end of April to mark the beginning of every long course season.

I will always cherish the memories I made from a sport that taught me more than I could ever imagine. And I will always be grateful for the people I met along my path. Thank you first and foremost to my parents. The people that always supported my dreams and sacrificed so much even through hard times. Thank you to my coaches. The people that challenged me and believed in me more than I believed in myself at times. Thank you to the good friends I made. The people that always had my back and pushed me during a hard practice. Thank you to the teammates who were more than just unkind to me at times. The people that pushed my buttons and taught me to stand up for myself. Thank you to my competition. The people who always challenged me to better myself. Through good times and bad times, swimming always taught me something. And I never knew how much I would miss the sport that I dedicated my heart and time to for so many years. I never knew until I wasn’t swimming for 6 hours a day anymore.

Midway through my junior year of high school, my swimming career was suffering traumatically. I waited much too long to act upon the signs that were right in front of me. I refused to think that the club drama my team had to deal with had anything to do with how I performed. And so I took sole responsibility for the way that I had performed and hoped that through hard work after my failures the season before, that I would be able to recover and brush myself off. I thought that my junior year was going to be the year that I finally qualified for summer juniors. Until it wasn’t. Things just kept getting worse. So, I was faced with a choice. I could either quit or switch allegiance to the rival club. Both painful thoughts, though one not nearly as painful as the other. Considering the love affaire I had with water, the answer was obvious. I had to switch clubs. As much as I hated seeming like a traitor and leaving the team I grew up on, I had to do what was in my best interest. By the time I switched clubs in my second semester of my junior year, I had made this magical transformation from a swimmer to a guppy. I was out of shape and could barely hit 5x100s under a minute. And for a distance swimmer who was able to swim a time of 4:55.40 in the 500free almost exactly one year prior and hold 30x100s all sub one, I was an absolute embarrassment to my prior self. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that my new coach would allow me to swim on the top performing group. The only thing I told him that I had going for me was that I would out work almost anyone. And sure enough, he decided to take his chances with me.

Through that entire season, I did just as I promised. The first month was hell and my body cringed at all of the sets that my coach wrote, but I put my head down and worked. I worked hand in hand with my coach and he reminded me every single day why I loved swimming so much. And sure enough, when the summer long course season rolled around, I was ready. I felt confident and my body felt fit as a fiddle. I ended up cutting time in all of my events and finally broke the pesky minute barrier in the 100 meter freestyle, but I ended up coming just a hair short of qualifying for summer junior nationals in the 200 and the 800 meter freestyle. I was so proud of myself for coming as far as I had, but I was also bummed about just missing those time standards. Again. None the less, I finally had the confidence I needed to remind myself that I still had a whole season ahead of me to improve. That if I could come so far after being on the verge of completely giving up only 6 months prior, that this part was more than doable now.

But I wasn’t able to foresee the curveball which came next.

During my senior year of high school, like all of the other senior swimmers in the high performance group, I was getting recruited by some big name universities. I was excited that maybe finally things would work out the way that I had always planed that they would. But I was wrong. Out of the schools which I was strongly considering, I wasn’t exactly elated by the scholarship money which I was being offered. Most of my scholarship money was coming from my academic performance rather than my swimming performance. I asked that these schools be more patient with me, given my circumstances, and at least give me a little more time to achieve my goal of hitting the junior national time standards I so desperately wanted to achieve. Though most schools did agree that I would receive more compensation if I achieved these time standards, they warned me that the scholarship money might not be there in the couple of months I needed. They said that nothing was guaranteed. Oh, what a cat and mouse game I tell you. But none the less, I had faith in myself that I could do it. Until I found myself in the same situation I was in two years prior.

The coach that believed in me and took his chances in training me when he really didn’t need to, ended up leaving. I was stuck where I was exactly two years prior. Where the coach that took my coach's place didn’t know me. He didn’t care to get to know me and he didn’t care to give me the proper training which was essential to my success. I was put right back to point zero on the number line.

I hated the garbage yardage I was constantly being given. I hated the feeling of falling back out of shape even though I closely followed every single thing the coach wrote on the white board and told me to do. I hated the sport I very much couldn’t live without.

So after the last championship meet of the season, I knew I had reached the end. I hadn’t achieved my goals and I failed to commit to swim for any college swim team. I felt like I had failed in almost every aspect. But I wasn’t prepared for the hardest part.

Quitting.

Permanently quitting the sport of swimming was one of the hardest things I’ve had to come to terms with. The first three weeks of not having practice were fun. I was finally able to spend time with my friends, watch the nightly news, get eight hours of sleep, and partake in other shenanigans which seniors take part in. After having my little break from swimming, I was ready to get back at it. I was getting bored and started wondering how normal students survived this maddening boredom and how they still complained about not getting enough sleep with such ample time on their hands.

But I still didn’t really feel the repercussions of quitting swimming until I went to college. As someone who spent 11 years practically living in the pool, swimming was everything. Swimming was there when I was upset with my parents or friends, swimming was there when I wanted to get my mind off of the bad day I had, swimming was there when I wanted to feel accomplished after a hard day of work inside and outside of the pool. Swimming was always there. And in a way, it was my crutch. I didn’t know what to do or how to handle myself without being physically competitive on a daily basis, without the physical and mental challenges swimming provided, without having my daily routine, without having my team there everyday, without having to look a set dead and telling myself that I would kill the set, even if it was the last thing I would do. I missed swimming and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was lost. I had no other hobbies. I enjoyed the idea of indulging in many other activities but since swimming was always a priority second to school, I never really picked up any other hobbies. I had nothing else to distract myself from my new environment, and for the first year of college, I could do nothing but constantly question my decision to not swim in college. I questioned whether I was doing the right thing and I questioned myself so much to the point that I almost convinced myself multiple times, that I was willing to walk on to my university’s varsity swim team. I was so lost that I couldn’t see that I was destined for other things. That when one door closes in your face, another one opens.

Though I did struggle with coming to terms with the fact that I would never qualify for the Olympic Trials or that I would never swim for my University’s swim team, my struggle has also forced me to appreciate everything I did for myself and what others helped me achieve through my entire swimming career. I was able to reflect upon all of the lessons I learned, the characteristics I obtained, all of the experiences I had, and people I was blessed to get to know. I realized that without swimming, I wouldn’t be the same person I am today. The hardships and the successes I had taught me equally as much. And everything that happened in between equipped me better for life than any curriculum in school ever could.

And so now cheers to going from being a swimmer to a swammer.