University of Tennessee Athletics
LADY VOL DIARIES - ABBI TERVEER
March 15, 2006 | Women's Swimming & Diving
March 15, 2006
Every performance has a particular significance to an athlete. Each race has a meaning; a purpose. Can you imagine what an athlete is thinking or feeling right before their last shot; the last chance they will ever have to triumph; the last opportunity to be extraordinary, inspiring, and all in all, "the man"? It is easy to believe this last race, match, game, will be what an athlete will remember. It is easy to think this one time is what defines their career. It is easy to imagine, because in many ways, it is true. It is "it". What would you be thinking? The easiest thing to do is flip out, cry or laugh, and possibly, in swimming, do a cannon ball into the water and say whatever, no thanks, think I'll pass...it's just too much. But the most precious part of this scenario is, as elite college athletes, we crave these moments; the life or death instances that in a split second can be determined by sheer strength, power, and will. Why wouldn't you want to go after this last race with hunger, lust, and fury? Sport is not worth it without this aching desire.
Well I am about to share with you a story about my "last performance" that hurts. It hurts in every way a human being can hurt. In the past two months, I have been on a roller coaster ride of emotion, passion, and, most of all, belief. In swimming, especially during the SEC championship meet, every race is complicated and has an individual, unique importance. To make it to NCAAs, I had to qualify on a relay in order to compete. I could not do it individually. That gave me two shots to go to NCAAs: the 200 freestyle relay and the 400 freestyle relay. I would have to automatically qualify on a relay and then, if I made B cuts in the 50 and 100 free, which I have done in previous seasons, I would then get to swim individual events at nationals. For the past three years, my main goal has been to make it to NCAAs. To say the least, every year I have been crushed by narrowly missing chances to qualify and compete. As my frustrations continued to amplify with my repetitive failure of this goal, I told my new coaches that this year I was not going to get my hopes up. I have gotten too close in the past and it was too painful to let it happen again, my last year. There was no room to think some rare incident would not happen. It has consistently happened three years in a row and, boom, I am off a relay I have been on all year and it makes the cut, or the relay I actually was on just misses the qualifying cut. But somehow this year, with a new thirst for competition from Matt (Kredich) and Jen (Arndt), I let my guard down and they had me believing I was going to make it. It was in the bag, as long as I kept doing what I was doing. Simple, right?
At SECs, I swam the 50 freestyle and made it to my first finals ever. First goal: accomplished. I swam on the 200 freestyle relay, one of my shots to make it to NCAAs, and we had a solid split. But we did not think it was quite good enough, so we were planning on time trialing it again, at the end of the four day meet, to make sure we would qualify. NCAA goal: still in pursuit. It was the fourth day of the meet in the morning prelim session, and I was preparing to swim the 100 freestyle. This is when my tale of torture begins. As I was watching my teammates in earlier heats race to great finishes with great times, I remember thinking to myself, "Awesome! If they are doing this good, there is no doubt I am going to have a great race. I am going to get after this." I had the best 75 of my life...and then I hit the last turn and pushed off. Machine failure. I died. Hard. Ouch. I got out of the pool and knew my time was not that great; not anywhere near where I had planned on finishing. As I took a moment sitting behind the blocks (I physically could not walk back over to the team), my mind started spinning. I had just shot my chance of going to NCAAs. The time I had just gone made me sixth on our team; my spot on the 400 freestyle relay was taken. The 200 freestyle relay was still up in the air. This was my only solid shot, and I blew it. All year I had held my spot on those relays...how could I have let it slip now, the time it mattered most? Was that my last race and I did not even know it? Hmm, way to go Ab.
The magnitude of my situation began to set in and the implications of messing up this one race became devastating. I was heart broken. I had to pull myself together and forget it happened. My teammates still had races to swim and I had no choice but to be strong for them. Most of them did not even understand what had just gone down and I kept it that way. Most importantly though, I still had a HUGE race that night in the time trial for the 200 freestyle relay. I had to be ready. Pulling myself together and believing it was still possible over those next few hours was one of the hardest things I have had to do. It would have been easier to start practicing cannon balls.
After the night session concluded, we swam the 200 freestyle relay and bettered our splits to a time we thought would cut it. All we could do then was wait...two horrendously long weeks and see if other teams would beat us for a spot. If, in any case, the relay did get invited to NCAAs, I was headed down to Georgia for the last chance meet with a large group of freshman to shoot for B cuts in my individual events. I swam the 50 freestyle a total of three times to try and qualify. Being ever so close and somehow getting faster each race, it was never quite fast enough. (.07 too slow) Bummer. At this point, disappointment was starting to boil over. I could not give up yet though. I had one more shot. I had to believe.
Waking up that Sunday morning, I knew there were really no more do-overs, second chances, and definitely no room for another 'whoops', like SECs. I woke up nauseous. This really could be my last race ever. The 100 free, the battle I had lost just one week before. What would I do if it was not faster? What if I die again? Ahhhh!! I had to repeatedly remind myself it was just another race, but it wasn't. I knew it. The feelings of rage I had felt all week screamed at me that it wasn't. I remember it almost being time to race. I was not ready. I was starting to lose it and over-analyze not just this situation, but all the years I have been swimming. This could be "it". I had to get it to stop. I then proceeded to grab a freshman and let her slap me, hard, across my face. Yeah...that will make you wake up. I was then instantly in the moment. The only thing I needed to do then was race, the way I knew I could. I swam that 100 freestyle like I was playing a video game and moving the swimmer just how I wanted. I got my B cut and went almost a second faster than SECs. Ok Ab, now you have redeemed yourself. Sweet.
During the next week and a half, we waited to finally hear that the 200 freestyle relay did qualify for NCAAs. I was officially in. (Insert a sigh of relief and a WOOHOO!) During the course of these two meets, I had a total of six races that I believed to be my last chance. Whew, how exhausting. Every time was a different adventure. A thrill I am not so sure I can explain in words because it did hurt. It hurt when I believed I had failed, it hurt when I went faster, it hurt when I went a lifetime best, and it hurt when I heard we had made it and qualified. There is no better way to describe this hurt than through the words of John Mellencamp, it hurts so good.
I wanted to share this story with my teammates to show it is possible. Why wait to believe? Never be scared of the hurting. Even though it is easier to buckle under the pressure and elegantly "bow out", you will forever envy other athletes who took the chances in the high pressure situations. It is in your nature to yearn for these conquests. Go after them with all the passion and courage you can muster. When it is all said and done and too late to turn around, make sure you could not have given more. I promise if you take my advice, at the end, when you are closing this chapter, you will have had the time of your life. I did.
