Having swum for five years and enjoying it greatly, I was determined to swim in high school as a young freshman.

The three months that preceded that decision were a series of ups and downs all culminating in Conference with the effort to make a statement, to earn me a spot on the Sectional team. Sadly, the very day before the biggest meet of the season, I came down with a 101-degree fever.

That fever did not stop me from hopping into the shower, cranking up the heat, and shaving my legs to prepare for the Conference properly. The only problem? I felt so dizzy I almost passed out. That restless night I grappled with the idea of going to the Conference the next day. I can’t let my team down, I finally decided.

The next day as the 100-yard breaststroke race progressed, my fever started taking control, and the goal switched from swimming fast to surviving the race. I looked up at the clock to see my time was five seconds off my best, but all I could think was, I’m glad that’s over with. 

Freshman year represented my youth and naiveness. While the season came to a disappointing end, it taught me an invaluable lesson: determination is not the only factor of success.

My sophomore year marked a change in my mindset. Instead of swimming for only enjoyment, I changed my sights on making it to the championship teams.

Wake up, 4:45 a.m. swim, 3 AP classes, and 3:00 p.m. swim consisted of my daily schedule to perform as well as possible. Major time improvements and confidence marked sophomore season as I headed back into the meet I fell short in last year, Conference.

 As I looked back up at that same clock that let me down a year ago, I started to feel the elation that came along with a spectacular performance. Even with a great Conference, my eyes were set on the state meet.

A 1:03.25. The mark that I needed to hit? A 1:03.14. Those 110 milliseconds were the difference between 25th and 24th. The difference between an opportunity to score for my team or sitting on the sidelines cheering. The difference between achieving a life-long dream or shrugging it off and saying, “I’ll get it next year.”

This season portrayed my determination and grit. It also offered me one of the most difficult pieces of advice to stomach: even with my best effort, I can still fall short.

Junior year, a year of redemption. The work ethic and determination to succeed were prevalent, if not heated by the flames of failure.

The season was going strong until the grim reaper crept into my system, COVID-19. A quarantine two weeks before Varsity Conference gave me a slim shot of making it back to Sectionals. 

Looking back at that same clock, my heart sank as I realized the implications of what my pitiful race would yield. That same night, seeing my coach calling me, my heart completely deflated as my previous assessment came to fruition.

My junior season did not live up to my expectations, and the disappointment that I felt as I yet again watched State from the sidelines was immeasurable. This regression taught me one last influential lesson: success is NOT linear.

These three core lessons do not only apply to swimming but also life. They will drive me forward to accomplish my future goals and allow me to thrive in new, difficult situations.

Looking back at my three seasons, I’ve learned one last lesson: my success is measured by my personal improvements, and not my capabilities compared to my peers.