42.99

This isn’t exactly the first time I’ve made a splash. When I was in the second grade I decided to “try out” for the swim team – Marshall Meters. Each fall the swim team had an introductory week – kids could come to practice and see if they were interested in joining the team. My good friend Michelle was a swimmer and was always busy with swim practice and swim meets. Joining the swim team seemed like a great idea to the 7 year-old me – I would get to see my friend every weeknight at swim practice and a few weekends a month when we competed in swim meets. So I showed up for the first night and within the first 10 minutes I drank more water than I could have imagined. By the end of the 30 minute session I was surprised there was any water left in the pool! When the coach excused swimmers who were only swimming for 30 minutes I gladly grabbed my towel and headed for the locker room. I couldn’t even imagine how the older and more experienced swimmers could practice for 1.5 and 2 hours each night! After that first night of practice I definitely wasn’t sold – but I really wanted to be able to hang out with Michelle, so I went back the next night.


Over the next few years I spent countless hours in the pool. Learning each of the strokes and many techniques along the way. I practiced starts, flipturns and finished. I tried a nose plug and earplugs. I bought countless styles of swim caps and goggles. I learned how to write my event and heat numbers on the back of hand so I could run and play with friends at weekend swim meets while we waited for our turn to complete. Somehow we found a way to get into our fair share of trouble during those weekend swim meets. (More on our adventures in future posts!) I experienced the nervous anxiety waiting at the starting blocks for my chance to compete. I vomited in more than a few locker rooms before learning how to manage that anxiety.

By the time I was 11 years old I had honed my skills and was a self-proclaimed breaststoker. ( I’m really not sure why I chose that as my stroke, I honestly think it’s because you got to breathe on each stroke!) I had progressed each season and was making the times necessary to compete at the A/B finals. The time standards put you in age categories including: 8 & under, 9 – 10, 11&12, 13 – 14 and 15 & over. A/B times were pretty much middle of the road, next came the state championship meet and final the zone competition – where you competed on a national level. My friend Michelle has successful made her state times and I wanted so badly to join her at the state meet. The qualifying time was 42.99! 42 seconds and 99 hundredths. Our coach was a phenomenal women who made a point not only to teach us of the basics of swimming but she also instilled in each us values any parent would be proud of. She insisted that we always give swimming our best, reminded me not to put all my eggs in one basket and informed us that swimming required an incredible amount of mental preparation. At the age of 11 I was an eager student. I took what she said about mental preparation very serious. As the season was coming to an end, I hadn’t yet been able to shave off enough time to make the state qualifying time. The A/B finals swim meet was fast approaching and I knew it was my last chance to qualify. In the weeks leading up to the meet I covered our house with post-it notes that displayed by goal time… 42.99. There were post-it notes in my bedroom, in the bathroom, on the shower door, in the kitchen cupboards. I’m not sure my parents appreciated all the post-it notes, but they seemed to tolerate my creative approach to mental preparation.

Let’s just say that I wasn’t quite successful at making that state qualifying time. Unfortunately I can’t even remember the exact time I swam that day. I’m sure I was extremely disappointed and likely shed a few tears in the steamy locker room after my race. What I do remember is that I had set a goal, wasn’t quite successful, but was ready to try again next season. I do still remember that qualifying time and years later 42 is one of my favorite numbers! Every time I see the number or say the number I can’t help but smile and think back to that meet when I stood behind the starting blocks, stomach full of butterflies, goggles full of fog, ready to take on the challenge. Here I am years later, a little nervous about the idea of blogging, but ready to take on the challenge

photo above is not me - but it's for a good cause.