My hand hits the water as I pull down, pushing it past my hip. A movement that I have done hundreds of thousands of times. It’s muscle memory, coming just as naturally to me as breathing. 

I’ve been swimming longer than I can remember. Jumping from the shore of the beach and plunging my head underwater while I do my version of the doggy paddle. Holding my breath, I would peer through the bottle cap lenses of my goggles. Watching as the fish beneath me swayed with the waves. The constant push and pull of the ocean soothed me. 

Swimming has been the one constant in my life. When I was in the hospital for a kidney condition that I couldn't control, swimming was there for me. When my parents got a divorce and flipped my world perspective inside out, swimming was there for me. The pool is a place for me to think. The endless back line painted against the slippery opal tile of the pool floor hypnotizes me into a state of deep thought. The pool is the office, and the sport is the therapist.

Until recently, the sport had just been a hobby. Something I would do when I was bored at the beach. It wasn’t until I joined my high school team in my freshman year that I realized how much joy the world of competitive swimming brought me. The cheers of my teammates as I raced through the water exhilarated me. I wasn’t the fastest swimmer in the pool, but that didn't matter. Because with every stroke I took, my heart leapt, jumping with me as I moved through the water. I had finally found my passion, the one thing I wanted to do every day over everything else.

Then Covid hit. Pool gates were locked shut, and swimmers retired their suits. But I was still determined to get better. I may not have been able to swim in a pool or run on the sidewalk, but I did have weights, an open backyard, and the will to be better. Each day after Zoom classes and homework, I would head outside and work out. Lifting weights and doing cardio kept me in shape as my swim training paused. By the time pools reopened and my training resumed, I was in the best shape I had ever been in. I was finally ready to drop the time holding me back.

By my junior year of high school, I had changed as a person. I was no longer the carefree child I was when I began my freshman year. I had things to do and a schedule to maintain. Instead of watching movies after finishing my homework, as I previously would, I would go to club swim practice. And on weekends, if I wasn't swimming in a swim meet, I was at work making money to pay for my swim and the gas needed to get me to practices. 

I remember the moment state time cuts were released. My coach sent a mass message to our “Dream Team” group chat containing the PDF of the high school time cuts. My heart sank. The 5:39.14 time that I held was nowhere near the 5:20.29 that I needed if I wanted to swim the 500 yard free at states. In that moment of despair, I decided that I had two choices. Either give up my goal to get to high school state or keep pushing myself over that finish line.

I chose to keep pushing.

I constantly strove to go faster. I’d swim four hours a day five days a week with swim meets every Saturday. Swimming taxed my body, but my mind was determined. The work I was putting in was paying off, but the closer I got, the further my goal seemed to feel.

At my second-to-last swim meet, I missed the state cut by 56 milliseconds. The clock was running out, and I still had not met my goal. I had one shot left, and I could not miss it.

I now stood behind the block, heart racing and legs shaking. This was my last swim to qualify for states, and I was ready to give it everything I had. Before my race, I had told my teammates that I would be happy no matter what the result was. It was a great season, and even if I didn't make it to the state competition, I had still dropped a significant amount of time. But that was a lie. I wanted more than anything to get to states. It was why I trained four hours a day and pushed myself past my breaking point. Every fiber and every nerve in my body wanted this, and I was ready to take it.

“Phwee,” the whistle sounded, signaling swimmers to step onto their diving blocks. I stepped onto my block, towering over the pool that lay stagnant beneath me. “Swimmers, take your mark.” the announcement echoed over the speakers as I bent down to grab the block beneath my feet. My breath slowed as I waited for the buzzer to sound, signaling the start of the race.

“Beep!” the sound rang out as I leapt forward off my block. My vision tunneled, and my ears seemed to turn off. The only thing I could hear was the voice inside me telling me to “just keep pushing.” and that's what I did. When my arms and legs grew heavy and felt like they could move no more, I kept pushing. I was ready to push myself over that finish line.

As I flip-turned into my final 25 yards, the pain that covered my body was drowned out by the desire to finish. I sprinted towards the last wall with everything I had. I hit the wall so hard I felt as if I may have broken it, but I had finished. 

I took my goggles off and looked towards the edge of the pool. It was lined with the faces of not only my teammates but the faces of friends and coaches from other teams. They were cheering, but not for other swimmers. They were cheering for me.

I looked to the board, curious whether I had made the time cut. I made the state cut by 3 seconds! A smile consumed my entire face as I shouted out in excitement. This moment was everything I wanted. The blood, sweat, and tears had finally paid off.

Swimming has taught me a lesson that I believe has changed me as a person. It has shown me that physical and mental walls are not permanent. You can push yourself through and over them to unlock new levels of yourself. With the proper determination and perseverance, anything is possible.