More Than a Time

When I was 11 years old, I missed the qualifying time for the 50 freestyle event by just 0.8 seconds. I wasn’t too worried at first—I knew I had another chance later that day during a time trial. But when the moment came, the pressure felt different. This time, I knew that if I didn’t make the cut, I wouldn’t be able to swim at the big championship meet I had been looking forward to. I gave it everything I had in that swim, but when I touched the wall and looked at the scoreboard, I saw I was still 0.3 seconds too slow.

I was crushed. I cried to my coach, thinking I had let everyone down. But instead of being disappointed, he calmly reminded me that all swimmers face setbacks like this. He told me that hard work would eventually pay off, and that if I kept going, I would get there.

That conversation stuck with me. Even though it was summer, instead of sleeping in, I started waking up early to run and train. I focused more during practices and stopped going through the motions. I stopped just showing up to practice and started pushing myself to improve—focusing on technique, setting personal goals, and analyzing every race to identify areas for improvement. That summer changed my mindset. Hard work went from being optional to something I knew I had to do to improve.

There were still days when I felt like giving up. I wondered if it was really worth it—was I just wasting my summer chasing a time I might never hit? But something deep down told me that it was better to try my hardest than to look back and wonder, ‘What if?’

A year later, I stood on the same pool deck, about to swim the same race I had missed before. This time, I dove in with power in my arms, a clear race plan in my head, and the calm focus I had worked so hard to build. I dove in and gave it my all. I hit the wall and looked up. I had made the cut—not just barely, but by over two seconds.

I was so happy that I jumped right out of the pool and ran to my coach. He smiled at me like he had known I could do it all along. In that moment, I realized that everything I went through—the failure, the training, the early mornings—had been worth it.

Missing that cut when I was 11 felt like the end of the world. But looking back, it was the beginning of a new chapter for me. It taught me that setbacks can be the push we need to grow. Although hard work doesn’t always lead to instant results, I’ve learned that consistent effort builds long-term success. This mindset continues to shape how I train today—pushing myself in every practice so I’m fully prepared on race day. And even when I fall short of my goals, I think back to the comeback I made at age 11, which reminds me that with dedication and patience, I can always improve.