I crossed the finish line of my first triathlon at 15 — dead last, chafed, and feeling defeated — while my mom cried tears of joy. Thirty years and 90 triathlons later, I finally reached the goal I set that day. Here’s what I wish someone had told my 15-year-old self about goals that take decades to achieve.

My father drove the boat beside me every time I swam across the lake, making sure I kept to a straight line. He asked the same question about everything else: why can’t you just do it the normal way? I’ve been swimming sideways for four decades trying to answer him.