I'll Get the Next One

“I'll get the next one.” This sentence is a quote from a paragraph my daughter wrote last weekend on an Instagram post. Just typing it caused my eyes to fill with tears, as it summarizes who my daughter is - and how we should all strive to live life.

“I'll get the next one.” Sometimes we don't have to say it. Sometimes life allows us to achieve our goals. Sometimes we can celebrate or even just take our life successes for granted.

There are other times, however, when circumstances get in the way and our goals are not met. These missed goals can be of any sort one can imagine - from a grade on a test, a job opportunity, a weight loss goal, a scheduled flight connection, or even a failed recipe. Responses to these disappointments can be varied, and it is easy to give up. But, a lesson both my kids seem to have learned (and that I am learning from them) - the very best response is, “I'll get the next one.”

Swimming is an unkind sport. It is unrelenting in its demands. A competitive swimmer is no stranger to early (very early!) morning practices, cold pools, chlorine-ravaged hair and skin, and races determined by sometimes a one-hundredth of a second. The higher the level of competition, the greater the demand. In college swimming, it all comes down to a few races at the end of the season. Nothing else up to that point really matters that much. There is a lot of pressure to be at your very best on the days of the championship races.

When it comes to swimming, my daughter has had to tell herself often that she will “get the next one.” A year-round swimmer for many years, she has had seasons cut short by pneumonia, appendicitis, injuries and other illnesses. Quitting the sport she loves never entered her mind. Wallowing in her disappointment (as I sometimes have done for her) has never been her style. Although her swimming career has sometimes seemed like a series of one-step-forward and two-back; instead of quitting she just keeps working until she can finally leap ahead in a three-giant-steps stride. Watching her has been a wonderful example of how to live life.

I was in San Antonio, TX last week to watch my daughter and her team compete in their college championship meet. Her teammates broke many school records and had some terrific swims. My daughter’s first race ended on a bad note, when she snagged and ripped her brand new (expensive!) racing suit while climbing out of the pool. Whether it was related to the influences of wearing a ripped suit, nerves, or other circumstances is unclear, but her subsequent middle-distance swims were not as fast as she had hoped. Still, she and her coaches remained excited and optimistic for the mile, her best event.

Her mile swim started off with swimmers taking their marks, like any other race. And then, it happened. Immediately on impact, after diving into the water, my daughter’s goggles broke at the nose piece. Snapped and flew off her face - still caught in her cap but dangling, useless, behind her neck.

As soon as she surfaced from her dive, it was apparent that something was wrong.

She surfaced from her dive and began to swim with her head well above the water, screaming to her teammates on the pool deck to get her new goggles. They sprang into action. Goggles were offered and passed hand-to-hand, until her coach met her with them at the end of the lane as she finished the 75th yard of this 1,650 yard race. Treading water, without touching the bottom or lane lines, she caught the goggles as they were thrown to her. She whipped off her broken ones, settled the new lenses over her eyes, and resumed the race. By this point the rest of the swimmers were easily a length or so ahead of her.

I can't describe how sad I felt for her. All that work, obliterated by the snap of a thin piece of plastic. I watched her continue to swim, and imagined an increase in the salinity of the pool. I was sure her tears were leaking from the borrowed goggles (which could not possibly fit as well as her own) and mingling with the chlorine. To keep myself from crying for her, I began to watch and cheer on her teammate, who I also hoped would swim well.

After a few laps, I focused again on my daughter. The gap was closing between her and the other swimmers. I just stared at her for a while, unable to dare hope that instead of being lapped, she was actually gaining on the field of swimmers. Instead of giving up, her pace was steady. Not only did finish a race that from the start seemed impossible; she did not come in last. Her time was not what she had hoped for or even a personal best - but it was such a courageous swim that she gained the respect of everyone at the pool.

Yes. My daughter will keep this promise to her team and to herself, and she will “get the next one.” But she “got this one” too. Sometimes the victories in life are not the ones we seek.


Having goggles break is just one obstacle life can throw at us.  How do you deal with challenges and disappointments?

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