At my first-ever Worcester Wahoos swim meet, I was seeded in last place, which meant they put me in lane six, the “slow lane.” It was the 50-yard backstroke, and I could see Coach Ted swinging his arms and blasting his whistle above my head from the sidelines. What I couldn’t see was the competition, but I felt sure that I must be far behind everyone else. To that point, at 8 years old, I was extraordinarily average. A distractible student. An unexceptional ball player. A shy girl.