During my very frequent swim meets, the mom taking care of me isn’t always my own. It’s a whole team of moms who take care of each others’ kids, my coaches, and my teammates. We look out for each other.
I have identified as a swimmer for as long as I can remember. I took lessons as a toddler, all the way until I was about 8 years old. I joined my first team, MAX Aquatics, when I was nine. Although swimming was a major part of my life, I didn’t enjoy it. It was always cold, difficult, and tiring. I continued to dread evening practices for at least a year–until I met Zoey. She began talking to me in between sets, asking me where I went to school and what I was interested in. I could tell she was a bit younger than I was, and we ended up finding out we went to the same school. Her dad, John, was our coach.
From there, I wasn’t so hateful of my sport anymore. I had someone to see and talk to each night. I met my other coach, Steven, soon after. Both of my mentors were easy to talk to and understood us, but at the time, I didn’t realize how valuable that was. When COVID-19 hit, our team went on hiatus. I didn’t pay much attention to it; I assumed I would return when I could. But when we came back, our team was small. People had quit or moved teams for a multitude of reasons. However, this change made it easier for me to pay attention to my teammates.
The bond between us continued to grow and my heart swelled with pride. I met Brooklyn, along with maintaining my friendship with Zoey. The three of us stuck together during the coldest of swim meets and the most lighthearted laughter we shared.
The next few years come to me in a blur. I can only remember the first time I realized that this was home. Our team had gotten to the meet early and were huddled beneath the blue MAX tent on the grass. The pool was a pop-up, temporary structure right by the beach. We quite literally had to walk across sand to get to the pool.
Someone had suggested we play soccer since I had my volleyball with me. It wasn’t the intended use of my prized ball, but I agreed. Kurt, Brooklyn, Marcus, Raylan, and I gathered on the wide expanse of sand. We kicked the ball around, ending up in a heap of laughter and sweat within ten minutes. When Coach John arrived, he showed us how to fly his kite. Coach Steven watched us from the sand, content. I took in the scene before me, realizing for the first time how lucky I am to have these people in my life.
No matter who you are– young or old, loud or quiet, fast or slow– the team will find a place for you. I have never felt vulnerable or scared to be myself around my team. I knew they would love me regardless. It’s a special, difficult bond to describe, but it’s so valuable. At my worst, I receive pep talks that truly lift me up. At my best, I have people to celebrate with. It’s easy to get sentimental when I think about my team. They are the epitome of what love is, and I will forever be thankful for what they have provided and taught me: stoicism, perseverance, sportsmanship, and friendship.
