A Great Read, True Inspiration

By Rebecca Soni | Aug 02, 2013

One year ago today, I swam my dream race in London — the Olympic final of the 200-meter breaststroke. It was the fifth day of swimming competition. A couple days ago I had won a silver medal in the 100m breaststroke, and just yesterday I swam prelims and semifinals of the 200. I was ready, I was nervous, I was confident to race that night. But there was something on my mind. One silly little number.

Since Beijing four years ago, I had been chasing my best time. Not only that, but there was a magic number in my head that had motivated me since I was a young swimmer — a girl whose coach pulled her aside and told her what he thought she could accomplish… that goal was 2:19. For 10 years since, I had a dream of being the first woman to break the 2:20 barrier, and though I had gotten close in Beijing (2:20.20) and my world record had since been lowered (2:20.10 by Annamay Pearse of Canada in 2009), I still had my sights set on that magic number.

I have been told that I don’t show enough excitement after my races. And the reason is that those races were good, but never been good enough! The night before, in semifinals, I reclaimed my world record and couldn’t help but laugh at the fate of seeing a 2:20.00 on that clock when I finished. So close!! As if there wasn’t enough pressure racing for a gold medal, I now had to keep my sights on going at least one hundredth of a second faster than I swam last night.

Somehow, I managed to get through the morning. I can’t remember the details but I’m sure it went something like this: Wake up and start feeling the butterflies, go to the dining hall for some breakfast, catch the bus over to the training pool, swim a little with my roommate Dana Vollmer, head back for some lunch and a nap, twiddle my thumbs, wait wait wait, get some coffee, and then, finally, team meeting and on to the competition pool. Once there, I went through the usual stretch and warm-up routine, then put on the lucky pink Arena suit before heading to the pre-race ready room. The entire time, that number rang around my head. This is it, I thought, my last chance at 2:19!

I knew I was prepared, ready and confident. Or so I kept telling myself. That feeling before you’re about to race, it’s one that swimmers dread because the nerves and anxiety, and yet we hunger for it year-in and year-out — for the passion, dedication, and pure love of the sport. Walking out to the blocks, I knew that I had two minutes and (hopefully) 19 seconds to fulfill my destiny. I had given thousands of hours in the pool to prepare for these two minutes; I had dedicated my life towards that little number that was now singing loud in my ears despite my pressing the imaginary mute button. And as I stepped up on the blocks, I knew the time had come: the time to stop thinking, stop worrying and to just swim.

Just focus on the water, this thing waiting in front of me that has been such a big part of my life. The way it reflected the lights from the ceiling as I looked over it with goggles on, the wavelessness that was such a calm and unnatural sight, yet it had the slightest ripple going across that long black line. This water is me; it’s my comfort zone and my home. Step up on the blocks, the buzzer sounds and we go through the laps until there’s only one more to go. I hear my coach, Dave, whistling from the stands. I think of four years ago, listening to that same whistle, when I surprised even myself to win my first Olympic gold medal. I think of my coach from when I was younger, Tom, who told me of the potential he saw. This was for you, for all of you — family, coaches, teammates, mentors, friends. I thought of anything but the race, and as we came towards that wall at the end, I knew I would win and what an exciting feeling to touch the wall, hear the crowd, and take the first free breath I had taken in a long time. Too scared to turn around just yet, I took a deep breath, then slowly looked at that clock to see if I had done what I wasn’t sure had even been possible.

But it was.

2:19.59. And that was finally good enough.

Link to Article on TeamUSA.org.