Underclassmen always talk about the future at their first national meet. It’s really annoying. I remember Alex, a freshman, could NOT stop talking about how fast he was gonna swim next year. What we didn’t know was that next year he would be out for the season after he was diagnosed with cancer. He told me how relieved he was when he found out. He had been wondering why he was swimming so slowly.
D3 athletes don’t receive any athletic scholarships, they do it solely because they love the sport. Our team had well over a hundred years of history. We even had an Olympian on the team named Faye, the first female olympic swimmer from Kuwait. Our coach had almost made the Olympics himself in the 200M Butterfly in the early 90s. We all loved him, and still do. One day, Davis, a cross-country runner who swam in high school and joined the team his senior year, was swimming in the same lane as Paul, the national champion superstar. Paul could have been a world-class swimmer, but his car was hit by a truck on the way to practice one morning. He lost all of his scholarships. Coach had taken a gamble on him and it paid off handsomely. Meanwhile, Davis had no future on the team and could win us no races. During that set, Davis had stopped swimming since Paul, the superstar, kept lapping him. Coach was pissed. “Davis, why are you stopping?”, “What’s the point? Paul keeps passing me, I’m just getting in his way”, “what makes you think the work you’re doing is any less important than the work he’s doing? Let him go around you, but keep swimming.”
Coach knew I felt off after my first race at nationals senior year. I couldn’t seem to find my rhythm from the year before. Luckily, I had one more relay. I did my usual prep: warm-up, towel off, listen to my music, focus on my breathing. I loved the feeling of zooming across the water at top speed. It felt like flying.
I had started swimming in high school because someone said ‘just do it’ and I couldn’t think of a reason not to. In a few years I was swimming year-round, about 20 hours a week, trying to get an athletic scholarship. I never got one, but I fell in love with racing, and training my mind and body together towards a common goal.
At college, my freshman year was a disappointment, I was almost slower than high school despite much more difficult training. Sophomore year I was too stressed, despite being much stronger, I only made A finals in one event. Junior year I went abroad in the Fall and eventually found a university team in Beijing to train with. Back home, our team needed sprinters badly since our powerful, 7 foot tall record holder had decided to retire from swimming a year early and we were seeded to lose conference to our school rival (Amherst). I knew I could make a difference this year when I got back. One night I went out with friends and we started running to a bar for fun. My shoe hit a rock and I fell. Hard. I found out the next day my foot was broken and I needed surgery to realign the bone. The doctor said it would take 3 months to heal, which meant I would miss the whole season. Worse yet, I had to tell my coach what happened. I gave up my dreams to be a champion and just focused on rehabilitation. That was when I learned how to meditate. It took 6 weeks before I could walk normally. I kept trying to train in the pool though the season was half over. Still, somehow I felt so strong and peaceful, like I had a secret power no one could see. When conference had arrived I remember being so excited yet calm.
Conference. Saturday night. I’m Shipping Up To Boston by the Dropkick Murphys blaring so loudly you can feel the bass in your chest, as the swimmers walk out to the starting blocks. Walking past my teammates patting my back and head to cheer me on. It was the 200 medley relay and I was the anchor. I was born for this. I dove in 5th but finished 2nd in the race. I also managed to out-touch our school rival relay by 2 hundredths of a second. I could see their hand hit the TouchPad after mine like it was happening in slow motion. We broke a 14 year old school record. Still feeling the power of the moving water I leaped into the air after the race with a primal yell in a deafening stadium for having conquered my demons and laid low my highest ambitions. Our team won the three day conference meet. My unexpectedly strong performance arguably made the difference in key races. I made it to nationals in 4 events and later become an All-American.
I had achieved the glory in the sport I had longed for. But that was a long time ago. Senior year my last race was barely 20 seconds long. I was glad to be done. I thought I was fine, but somehow it took me an hour to work up the nerve to change out of my swimsuit. Because I knew I would never put it on again, and even if I did, it would never be the same. The identity I had built over 8 long years ended instantly. Who was I now? I still have dreams that I have one more season left. I had done everything right. I had worked hard, made it all the way and then, just like that, it was over, and I could never go back. Granted, I would not miss having to shave my whole body and get up before 6am to jump into a cold pool…
<a Toastmasters speech from April 2018>
Daeus Jorento 