Swimming for the Bears

It has been a awhile since my last post, and I hope no one thought I died, though, I thought I was going to die a couple of weeks ago - I started practicing with the Missouri State Swim Team. Why did I connect swimming with my sudden demise? That's a tough question to answer. I haven't always viewed the sport this way. I've been a competitive swimmer for most of my life; from age nine to eighteen, I developed a strong devotion to the sport, constantly striving to achieve better results at almost any cost. I had gotten to the point where I was doing double practices plus weights and dryland workouts. I also had three different binders recording my times, goals and plans on how to achieve those goals. I lived to swim.

My hard work paid off, for I was competing at the international level.  With the way my training was going, I figured that by the time of the next Olympic Trials, I would have a qualifying time in at least one event. But God had other plans for me. When my father was diagnosed with SNUC (sinonasal undifferentiated carcinoma - a super rare brain cancer), I had to majorly cut back on my training to be home to help care for the family. Our battle with cancer lasted two years, and when it was finally over, my swimming career was greatly diminished. I was no longer able to train, and had lost the drive to do anything, least of all swim. Despite my rotten attitude at the time, I was blessed to get a job coaching the sport, guiding younger athletes through the steps to achieving the success I once enjoyed. It was because this job that I began to miss participating in the sport. As I prepared to transfer to Missouri State University after earning my Associate of Art degree, my sister's swim coach suggested that I call the coach of Missouri State's team and ask for a walk-on spot. I thought that he was crazy, but it didn't hurt to ask. So I asked, and got the spot. To say I was shocked would be a understatement. I was excited to swim again, but I also dreaded the thought of training with Division I athletes while I am so out of shape. Going from swimming with the pack to trailing far behind is not a fun thing, and my pride started to wear into my way of thinking. Thoughts such as 'If they only knew how good I was.' pop into my head and make practice a miserable event. Everyday I have to ask God to take away my selfish feelings and replace them with ones of thanksgiving; so I guess, in a way swimming does lead to death -  the death of my pride. 

Every practice I must let my pride die, because I only gain harm if I allow it to live. It is extremely hard to be thankful for a gift when you think that you deserve better, and being able to swim again is a gift that I didn't earn and need to be grateful for. I must realize that my talent in swimming does not come from my strength, and refocus the glory where glory it due - to God. Now I live for Him!