Revisiting An Old Love

After a four-year break, I have returned to a sport I happily left behind me. 

Swimming was the sport that defined my life for thirteen years. Practices twice a day, travel to meets on the weekends, and workouts carefully curated to fit the events I compete in. It defined my life in almost every way. From the people I socialized with to what I ate. 

Returning to the pool was not something I planned. It came from the need for change. My routines had become stale. The new workouts and hobbies I have thrown myself into feel more like a chore than something I enjoy. As spring is approaching us, so are new ideas of how to bring whimsy back into your life. “Revisiting My Middle School Self” has been on my mind, and reminding myself of all the ways I used to find happiness. The pressure of school and the looming “need” to find a summer internship are weighing heavily on me. The need for a change of pace is eating at me. And as much as I look forward to losing myself in the Maasverse, little Victoria would be looking forward to her afternoon practice just as much. 

My 13 Years 

I first started swimming when I was around five years old. Summer league swim was the season. “Eat my bubbles,” written on my back with a Sharpie, was my first tattoo, and my list of events scribbled on my wrist was proudly worn for the next week. At this time of my life, it felt like a silly thing I did every summer to pass the time in the Texas heat. It was how I met most of my childhood friends, and how I got to see a lot of my hometown. I enjoyed swimming like this for a while; it was my summer sport, while soccer was something I did in the fall. This was the pattern I followed for years, until I decided I wanted something a little more. 

It soon turned into something more in middle school. All my friends were joining year-round club teams; they got to travel, and there were more opportunities for this to go from silly to a part of my daily life 12 months a year. 

I quickly joined a local team and realized just how serious this was. There were kids I had competed with in summer league who had been doing this for years. Their dedication and pace intimidated me, but I was determined to be just as good. I threw myself into the sport and was as happy as could be. I met more people and coaches who were determined to get me to the level I wanted to be at. With that came the sacrifice of my time. I was determined to reach a certain level of excellence, craving to get into the elite teams, and meet the required times. So I went to every 6 AM practice, every practice that same afternoon, and every Saturday morning practice. It was brutal at first. It was a complete 180 from summer league to here. But with every millisecond to second shaved off meant that the sacrifice of time and sore limbs meant something. 

High school was a whole new world of swimming, but going in, I deemed myself prepared. The double practices and workouts from the club prepared me for this. But what I was not prepared for was competing for two teams, as well as going through those awkward high school phases. Swimming was my comfort for years. My friends were there, and my whole world was inside those lanes. 

By my senior year, I had done so much with swimming that I had moved up to the teams I worked so hard for, and even became captain of my high school team. All these years of hard work and dedication meant something; I owed so much of life to this sport. It shaped how I view exercise, taking care of your body, and surrounding yourself with people who have the same goals as you. 

But by the end of the high school season, I lost all motivation to continue training. I knew I no longer wanted to pursue this in college. I was dealing with a lot of personal things outside of the pool at the time that my escape was no longer comforting. It had become a reminder of everything I could no longer control. My relationship with my high school coach had become strained as I was admittedly not showing up in the way I should have.  

I started finding any excuse not to be at practice, not to perform the way I had trained myself to be. I finally quit swimming that season, and by the time graduation came around. I was completely done with it. 

After 4 Years

Going into college, I was so happy to have left swimming. I never really thought about it. I did not miss it in the way I thought I would. Double practices, and that chlorine stench was gladly left at graduation. But what I struggled with was exercising alone. As much as swimming is an individual sport, I would have gotten nowhere without my team by my side. 

Working out was the new thing to navigate. After taking a summer off, I did not think about working out or training, as that was all I did outside of school for the majority of my life. I tried going to the gym to lift weights, and for a while, that was enjoyable, but I struggled with how lonely it felt. No one to push you, no one to race. I tried everything, running, yoga, pilates, bouldering (which I still love), anything under the sun. But embarrassingly enough, nothing hit the same way swimming did all those years ago. 

Now, I have made my peace with swimming. I have found myself itching to get back to the pool, and for the first time in four years, I found myself at the rec center staring at a black line all over again. This time, there is no pressure from meets, no coach telling me I need to train harder. No curated sets to reach my goals, no 6 AM practice, just me enjoying moving my body in a way that I choose.

Swimming will always be a reminder of who I was all those years ago. A reminder of all the ways I found my happiness, of that little girl who was determined to always be better, who had goals and did anything to achieve them. And that little reminder is just what I need to get me through this spring semester. 

• self-growth
• sports
• starting over
• swimming
• wellness