I was so impressed with my 10-year-old daughter the other day.
Her little brother and sister qualified for an invitational swim meet earlier in the season, and she was just a fraction of a second away in her best stroke, butterfly. Swimming is her sport — it’s what she is passionate about and she’s good too. She looks beautiful in the water, smooth, fluid and comfortable. Lilly and Adam on the other hand, like swimming but play other sports. Neither loves it like Maggie.
Maggie set her sites on qualifying too and became frustrated a few meets ago when she added, instead of shaving, time. She admitted then that she wasn’t sure how she would feel if Lilly and Adam got to go to the meet and she didn’t. So I set up a special day for her in case she didn’t qualify, hoping all the while that she would.
Saturday was her last chance. She swam like a champ and when she got out of the water, she was smiling. I thought she had made the time — 18.49 seconds — but when I made my way to the other end of the pool, I learned that she hadn’t. Her time was 18.65 seconds. She was smiling because she had beat her best time and that made her happy.
“Now I don’t have to choose what to do that day,” she told me.
I was so proud. I was  more impressed with how she handled it than I would have been if she had qualified. She proved that she’s not only and awesome swimmer — she’s an even better sport.