By Nicole Farina, Swimming World College Intern.
“In lane 4, Nicole Farina from Ursuline Academy.” Cheers erupted, louder than for any of the other swimmers announced. I adjusted my signature pink goggles, pulled down my black UA cap, and glanced at the seven other girls in my heat. I smiled to myself. “I’ve so got this,” I thought.
The day was March 1, 2014: my fourth and final Delaware High School Swimming State Championships. Since freshman year, I dreamed of making it to the podium in the 100 butterfly at this meet. It was my sole mission to become one of the top three butterfliers this state had to offer. Saying you’re one of the best in a place named “dullest state” in the Guinness Book of World Records might not sound like much. But to me, it was everything.
High school season in Delaware is short and low-pressure. The real magic happens on our club teams. But every club swimmer will agree that there’s just something about the state championship meet that’s different. How you do at this meet isn’t for your swimming future. This is for status in a small state. This is for you.
Delaware’s small. Everyone talks. Especially in the swimming community. I wanted everyone to know my name. I was ready to leave behind a legacy for my school, and for myself.
During my senior season, I worked unbelievably hard. I was at the Brandywine YMCA pool every day, regardless of the homework I had, and regardless of anything else I had to do. Whether it was 5:15 a.m. or 3:30 p.m., I was always there. Everyone — parents, friends, teammates, coaches — knew what I wanted out of this meet. And they were rooting for me. I was an underdog going into my senior season. Everyone loves an underdog.
The preliminaries of the meet were on a Thursday evening, the last week of February. From there, the top 16 swimmers in each event qualify for the high-intensity, podium-filled finals– Saturday of the State Championships. Finals determine how you’re thought of in the Delaware swimming world for the next year. But if you’re a senior, they determine how you’re remembered.
As captain of the smallest team from the smallest high school at the meet, I was ready to lead my teammates-turned-best-friends to the best state meet our school had ever seen.
Photo Courtesy: Nicole Farina
I swam lights-out Thursday night. Though no best time, I went fast enough to be seeded first in the 100 fly going into finals on Saturday. First. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this. A smile was pasted on my face for hours after seeing the results paper taped to the wall with number ‘1’ next to my name.
I felt like a little kid on Christmas Eve: I could hardly fall asleep that night. The possibility that I could be a state champion kept sneaking into my mind. It made me giddy and nervous; excited and eager.
Saturday finally rolled around— my favorite day of the year. My eyes lit up as I stepped onto the deck of the University of Delaware natatorium: my favorite, gleaming eight-lane pool.
The meet flew by. Suddenly, it was time to put on my white Beats headphones, blast “The Illest” by Far East Movement, and trek behind the blocks. I looked up in the stands at my mini-fan section. I saw my parents, and thought of the card my mom gave me that morning. She wrote no matter the outcome of tonight, I’m her biggest inspiration.
I glanced next to my parents to see one of my childhood coaches, along with four of my club coaches. Two rows down, I saw a few of my guy friends. “Yeahhhhh, Nicole!” they screamed. I giggled to myself. Near them were my two best friends from school, who knew nothing about swimming, but knew how important this meet was to me. I knew that my biggest supporters believed in me, and wanted this for me just as badly as I wanted it myself.
As I stretched behind the block of lane 4, girls walked by wishing me luck. Some of them I knew, some I didn’t. I took off my headphones and placed them on a chair. I jumped up and down, shaking out my arms, as well as my nerves. It was time.
“This is the championship heat of the women’s 100-yard butterfly,” the announcer said. He announced each swimmer, starting with lane one, stating their name and school.
The referee blew the whistle. With a deep breath, I pressed my pink goggles against my face one last time. The natatorium grew dead silent, identical to the start of every race. “Swimmers, take your mark…” BEEP.
I exploded off of the block. I did my usual eight underwater dolphin kicks: my secret weapon. But today, they weren’t as quick as usual. Uh oh, I thought. I could tell at the first turn that I was behind.
Panic set in. There’s no time to mess up. It’s hard to come back in a 100. I knew I went out too slow by the second half of the second lap. I saw out of the corner of my left eye the girl in lane 3 edging ahead of me. I couldn’t see past her, and wasn’t sure about lanes 5 through 8.
At the second turn, I saw lane 3 girl turn before me. Time to kick it in gear. Two laps left. Now or never. I dug deep. I pushed hard. I embraced the pain of my screaming arms.
One lap left. Okay, I might not win, but I’m still going to podium. Push, Nicole, push. Head down, don’t breathe, you’ve got this. You’re making it on the podium. Finish hard. Finish ha-
Photo Courtesy: Nicole Farina
I was interrupted mid-thought as my fingers slammed into the wall. I immediately jerked my head to the left to see the scoreboard. When I saw it, my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. I tore my pink goggles off my head, and threw them onto the pool deck. Next to my name, my school, and my time read the number ‘4’. As in fourth place. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. My jaw dropped. My hand smacked over my mouth. Tears started embarrassingly, uncontrollably flowing from my eyes.
The girl in lane 2 won, lane 5 got second, and lane 3 beat me by 0.15 of a second. That’s a blink of an eye, the length of a fingernail. I climbed out of the pool and was hugged by teammates, both high school and club.
Photo Courtesy: Nicole Farina
The tears were never-ending. I couldn’t help it; I was too invested in this. I was absolutely humiliated. People expected things from me. And I let them down.
I looked into the stands, like I did minutes ago. Through my tear-soaked eyes, I saw my parents, coaches, and friends; their faces filled with sympathy. Shocked and heartbroken. They felt my pain. I shook my head with disappointment when I looked at my mom. I saw one of my coaches and could have sworn he had tears in his eyes.
I walked over to my team, and was engulfed in a hug from my coach, Ellis. She understood my heartbreak— she was well aware of my senior year goals. With her hand on my head, she looked me in the eyes, and explained how proud she was, not only of my race, but as my role as captain and teammate. She assured me that I’ve left more of an impact on the girls on my team than I had realized. I weakly smiled and brushed the compliment off, partly because I wasn’t ready to hear it, and partly because I wasn’t sure if I believed it.
Failure’s tough. And coming back from it is even harder. I bounced back, but it took time. As I was focusing on personally achieving my goals, it hit me that I did, in fact, overlook the influence I left on my younger teammates, the girls I’m happy to call my sisters.
One year later, I went back to watch States in 2015. As four of my former teammates were about to swim the last race, the 400 freestyle relay, they frantically waved to me in the stands to get my attention. As I waved back, all four yelled to me, “This one’s for you, Nicole!” I beamed, and felt tears well up in my eyes, knowing that I have left my legacy. I might not have been the way I thought or planned, but I left it. And I’m proud.
All commentaries are the opinion of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Swimming World Magazine nor its staff.
Great read.
Excellent article by Nicole, fond memories of BRY swim team.
We hung on every word…excellent read and much to learn from.
Legacy indeed. Nicole you showed girls then (and countless other times) that there are ups and downs in swimming. You lead by example and I know the effect of your positive influence on many a younger swimmer…one inparticular (my daughter)! It’s one thing to lead from the front of the pack but you showed your teammates and swimmers all over our state that leadership can be executed from behind the pack or best yet…beside! That is a legacy indeed!!!
You brought tears to my eyes as well Tears of joy Because win or lose your a winner to me Wonderful writing The future is waiting for you to become whatever you want to be I can’t wait to see the next article love you