A Letter To My Club Coach
Dear Coach,
I used to think gratitude was something you expressed at the end, after the final practice, after the last meet, after the chapter was closed. But swimming doesn’t really work that way.
Neither does your impact.
You were there long before the success, long before the highlights, and long before I ever understood the lasting impact swimming would have on my life.
I still remember the seasons when nothing seemed to move. Years of training, early mornings, and long sets, yet the times stayed the same. While others were dropping seconds, I was stuck staring at the same numbers on the scoreboard, meet after meet. It would have been easy for you to shift your focus to the swimmers progressing faster. Many people would have.
You didn’t.
You kept showing up for me in the same way you always did. You pulled me aside after practice, not to criticize, but to ask how I was feeling, what I thought was missing, and what we could keep building. You reminded me that progress wasn’t always loud or obvious, and that growth often came quietly before it showed up in the results. At the time, it felt like patience. Now I realize it was belief.
You were always the first one on deck. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but your coffee was already in hand, pace clock running, lanes set. You pulled the tarps off the pool yourself just to ensure we were set for practice. You greeted us by name, no matter how early it was or how tired we looked. And when practice ended, when the deck emptied and the last swimmer left, you were still there. Putting equipment away. Writing notes. Planning the next session. That kind of consistency teaches more than any drill ever could.
You taught me how to commit to something fully, even when the outcome wasn’t guaranteed. You showed me that leadership isn’t about volume or attention, but about presence. About doing the unglamorous work, day after day, without needing recognition.
Swimming eventually became about more than the pool. Even as we moved toward college and new opportunities, you continued to support us from afar. You cheered us on at meets whenever you could, always welcomed us back home during holidays and breaks, and reminded us that the lessons we learned with you were meant to last well beyond our club years. You laid the foundation for the successes we would later achieve in college, not by doing it for us, but by teaching us how to work hard, persevere, and show up.
What I didn’t realize then was that you weren’t just coaching swimmers. You were shaping young athletes for what came next in life.
You taught us how to handle frustration when effort didn’t immediately pay off. How to stay grounded when things finally clicked. How to be accountable, resilient, and supportive teammates. You reminded us that character mattered when no one was watching, and that how we trained often mattered more than how we performed.
Some of my strongest memories aren’t from championship meets or personal bests. They’re from quiet moments on deck. A short conversation after practice. A nod of approval when words weren’t needed. Seeing you cheer every lap of a long course mile, up and down the pool deck not missing a step. A reminder that one bad race didn’t erase months of hard work. Those moments mattered more than you probably realized.
When swimming ended, as it does for everyone, I expected to feel lost. Instead, I felt prepared. The habits you helped build followed me into classrooms, meetings, and everyday life. Showing up early. Doing the work even when progress is slow. Trusting that consistency compounds. Believing that setbacks don’t define you, but how you respond does.
I hear your voice more often than you probably realize. When I’m tempted to quit something too soon. When I feel stuck and question my progress. When I need a reminder that effort still counts, even when results lag behind.
So thank you for staying when it would have been easier to move on. For believing when I struggled to believe in myself. For being the first one on deck and the last one to leave. For preparing us not just for faster swims, but for bigger lives.
I may be a retired swimmer now, but I will always carry what you gave me. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.
— A Former Swimmer