28 July 2012
At the ripe old age of 11, I had two dreams: to work at Vogue magazine and to be in the 2012 Olympics.
I was in training for my favourite events: 400m IM and 100m freestyle, and my coach told me that with enough training I could go to the heats to enter the Olympics. It was my absolute dream, and I therefore went to training seven times a week, at the most obscene hours, to increase my fitness and decrease my time. Perhaps that's why I'm a morning person now!
But after injury struck me down at 14, I couldn't train nearly as much as I did before, and increased pressure to do well in exams and to get scholarships to my next school meant I had to dedicate more time to school work and the arts and less to swimming.
This was inevitably a down hill slope, until I've reached the point now where I swim twice a week if I'm feeling particularly productive and inspired. Which most of the time I'm not.
This morning, as I sat in my room watching the 400m women's IM heats, lying in bed at midday and eating a pop tart, I thought about what the 11 year old me would have said.
She was more determined. She had a dream and she was willing to fight for it, even though the pain it caused was monumental. I've achieved my Vogue dream, but part of me still wishes I'd tried that bit harder. That I'd recovered from injury quicker and that I'd got back up on my feet sooner afterwards.
My mother promptly called me to make sure I was watching the heats, and when I told her I was, she said this:
"Don't you wish that was you?"
Yes. Yes I do. And that's what's really got me thinking: I need to sort myself out.
That's why, as of now, I am going to start going back to training at least 3 times a week. Sure, I'll probably never be in the same position as the 11 year old me was at, and I'll probably never be in an Olympics, but I'll be able to say that I refused to give up on the dream that fuelled me when I was a little girl.
To all you 11 year olds, who have a dream like mine, no matter how big or small it may be, no matter how achievable it is, don't give up.
My father always told me to lower my dreams to a definitely achievable standard, so I always succeeded, but I don't believe he's right.
When you're young, having big dreams is what keeps you young, and what keeps you alive.
Breaking my ribs and breaking my arm not only shattered my dream but it felt like my childhood had ended.
Now, I do as my father suggested and I dream the achievable dream, when I really should be dreaming the impossible.
So dream big, and don't give up! Even if you find yourself up at 5 every morning and missing out on the best parts of life, never give up: you'll get there one day!
Olympic Dreams • Opuss № I