Torres Dara - Age is just a number: achieve your dreams at any stage in your life

This author is available for select readings and lectures. To inquire about a possible appearance, please contact the Random House Speakers Bureau at or (212) 572-2013.

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For my father, Ed Torres, for showing me what
hard work, sacrifice, and dedication mean;

for my mother, Marylu Kauder, for demonstrating
how to achieve your dreams while being
a knockout mother of six kids;

and for my daughter, Tessa, for inspiring me
as no one ever has before.

I ve been old before. I was old when I was 27 and I got divorced. I was old when I was 35 and I couldnt get pregnant. I was really old when I was 39 and my father died. But when I was 41 and I woke up in a dorm in the Olympic Village in Beijing, I didnt feel old. I felt merelyand, yes, happilymiddle-aged. The water doesnt know how old you are, Id been telling anyone who would listen for the prior two years. Though sometimes, I have to admit, I would think to myself, Good thing it cant see my wrinkles.

On the morning of the 50-meter freestyle Olympic finals, I set my alarm for six oclock. Im a type A person, or as some of my friends call me, type A++. Basically, Im one of those people who has to do everything I do to the fullest extent of my ability, as fast as I can. When I recently moved houses I didnt sleep until all the boxes were unpacked and all the pictures hung on the walls. I dont like to do anything halfway, and Id set this crazy goal for myself: to make my fifth Olympic team as a 41-year-old mother. And the truth was I didnt just want to make the team, either. I wanted a medal. I wanted to win. Along the way, I also wanted to prove to the world that you dont have to put an age limit on your dreams, that the real reason most of us fear middle age is that middle age is when we give up on ourselves.

It was a pretty crazy thing to be doing, especially under the circumstances. If youve ever had a toddler or watched a parent you adore die, youll know what Im talking about. Young children and dying parents are truly exhausting, and I had one of each as I made my comeback. But I knew in my heart I could succeedas long as I left no stone unturned.

The race started at 10 A.M. , so Id worked out my schedule leading up to the race. I needed to drink my Living Fuel breakfast shake at 6:15 A.M. so Id have time to pack my roller bagtwo practice suits, two racing suits, two pairs of goggles, two racing caps, two towels, and my dress sweats, in case I got a medalbefore I caught the 6:45 A.M. bus over to the Water Cube. Id then do my whole routinewake-up swim, shower, get mashed (a massage technique done with the feet), do my warm-up swim, get stretched, and put on my racing suitall before I headed to the ready room, where all the swimmers wait before a race. My teammates, I have to tell you, thought that roller bag was the funniest thing in the world. They were all 15 to 25 years younger than me, the ages I was at my first, second, and third Olympics. (I was already beyond their ages by my fourth.) Their bodies were like noodles, and they all carried their gear in backpacks. But Id noticed that backpack straps made my trapezoid muscles tense up. Swimming fast, for me, is all about staying loose. So I had a roller bag. If I looked like a nutty old ladyfine.

The Beijing morning was humid and dark when I left the Olympic Village. All the other swimmers were probably still asleep. I think that the only other person awake in the Village was Mark Schubert, the National team coach of the USA Olympic swimming team. Mark had also been my coach at my first Olympics, 24 years ago. And hed been my coach at Mission Viejo, where Id gone to high school to train at age 16. I love Mark. Hes like my fairy godfather, constantly dropping into my life at just the right time, giving me what I need, and then disappearing again. That morning hed woken up in the Beijing predawn to help me prepare for my race. Wed come a long way together. Though he wasnt my coach in the months leading up to the Olympics, hed taught me the discipline and the commitment to detail I now so prized. We were now goingliterallyone more lap.

I rolled my bag out to the sidewalk as quietly as possible. I didnt want to wake anybodypartly because, as a mother, I knew the value of sleep. But selfishly, I also wanted my competitors to stay in their beds. The longer they slept, I told myself, the greater my advantage and the more time I had, relative to them, to prepare. Since my daughter had been born Id been saying that waking up with a kid in the middle of the night was going to give me an edge at some point. I hoped this was it.

Over at the Water Cube the competition pool was empty, so I yelled Good morning! to Bob Costas, who was broadcasting up in the rafters, found my lane, and dove in. I dont usually do a wake-up swim in the competition pool, but the 50-meter freestyle is a really strategic race. Time can contract or stretch out. Its only one length of the pooljust 24 or 25 secondsbut its also easy to get lost. If Ive learned one thing from all my races and all my years, its that the Olympics can be disorienting, and the middle of things is where we tend to lose the plot. Part of my plan for the morning was to learn exactly where I was going to be in the water at every stroke of the race. So as I swam I memorized all the landmarks, the intake jets, where all the cameras were on the bottom of the pool. That way Id have markers in addition to the lines 15 meters from the start and 15 meters from the end. Id know when to keep a little energy in reserve, and when to take my last breath and gun for the wall.

More was riding on this race than on any other race Id swum. Back in Florida I had a child, Tessa, whod one day study this race to find out who her mother was. I had a coach, Michael Lohberg, whod believed in me before anyone else, who now lay in a hospital bed with a rare blood disorder, fighting for his life. Id had a father, Edward, whom Id lost to cancer just as Id started this comeback, and whod wanted so much for me to realize my dreams, and who I felt was with me every day.

And most unexpectedly, at least for me, I had a lot of fans. Im not being coy when I say the fans were unexpected. Im saying they were unexpected because I didnt yet understand how overcoming perceived odds workshow even just attempting that can inspire people, and how the energy from those people can boomerang back to you, giving you the strength and energy you need to reach your goals. So I was surpriseddeeply surprised, and also gratefulthat my dream was contagious. Ive always been good in a relay, but Ive never been quite as strong in my individual events. Ive just never been at my best when Im swimming in front of the whole world just for myself. But now I had the support of everyone nearing or over 40, everyone whod ever felt they were too old or too out of shape to do something but still wanted to give it a try. I had everyone who didnt want to give up. I just couldnt let all those people down. I felt they were depending on me almost in the same way my relay teammates did. We were in this together. I couldnt entice so many women and men into dreaming a little longer and aiming a little higher, and then not win.