Anonymous
If you’re reading this, struggle isn’t a sign of breakdown; it’s proof of profound passion.
You know the feeling I'm talking about. You spend so many hours submerged in chlorine that your entire existence starts smelling like the pool deck. You sacrifice social events, family weekends, and even sleep, all for the sake of the black line and the stopwatch.
Somewhere along that relentless path, the distinction between the person you are and the swimmer you are starts to blur, then disappear entirely.
It becomes incredibly hard to define yourself without mentioning your times or your events. When someone asks what you like to do, you automatically list "swimming." When you look in the mirror, you see the broad shoulders, the calloused hands, the exhaustion in your eyes, and you think: I am built for this.
But when the suit comes off, when you’re standing in a bookstore or walking through a crowded mall, a sudden, cold panic sets in.
Who is this person when she isn't pushing off a wall?
If the next meet is a failure, does the person fail too?
Have you invested so much of your identity in this singular pursuit that you’ve become a mere collection of strokes and lap times, rather than a living, breathing human being with other dreams and interests?
This anxiety is real. It’s heavy. It makes you feel unbalanced and sometimes profoundly lonely, as if the water is the only place you truly exist. But this is the crucial part, the perspective we often lose when we’re caught in the current of training, the fact that you feel this worry at all is a gift. The fact that you care so deeply about the boundary between your sport and your self means that your heart is beating. It means your brain is engaged and your conscience is working overtime.
This struggle isn’t a sign of breakdown; it’s proof of profound passion.
It tells you that you are deeply committed to something, and that commitment is simply overflowing into the rest of your life. You are not just a swimmer, but a person with the discipline of an athlete. You are not just exhausted, but you are experiencing the full, textured challenge of balancing ambition with well-being.
So, please, embrace this tension.
Don’t fight the passion, but channel it.
Take that drive you use to finish a difficult set and apply it to finding balance. Be intentional about giving yourself room to breathe. Read a book that has nothing to do with training. Spend an afternoon laughing with friends who don’t know your best stroke. Find something to be proud of that exists entirely outside the water. The swimmer will be stronger, faster, and healthier for it, and the person will be whole.
You are a person who swims, not a swimming machine. The love you feel for the sport is simply a vibrant expression of the love you have for life itself. Now go live it, both in and out of the water.
Anonymous., Arizona State University
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