Kristaps Mikelsons

Quality Over Quantity

Right now, I feel like I’m finally learning how to swim the right way, and I know exactly why that matters.

My mom was a swimmer for the USSR. She was a national record holder in distance events and set a record in the 800 free long course when she was around 11 years old.

I’ve seen her old training diaries. The workouts were unbelievable: 10K in the morning, 12K in the afternoon. That’s a 22K day. But by 13 or 14, she couldn’t do it anymore. She stepped away, rowed for a while, then became a swim coach.

That reality has been in the back of my head for years, not as something scary, but as something clarifying. She’s the reason I don’t believe that “more” automatically means “better.”

Her message has always been quality over quantity. That’s why this season feels so important.

I broke three Latvian records at the European Short Course Championships and had huge drops at SMU meets. But halfway through my third year, I can feel myself understanding the system: what the coaches want, when they want it, and how to balance that with the rest of my life.

Small-town peace, early doubt, and learning what matters

I grew up in a Latvian city with only a few thousand people. Compared to Dallas, it’s peaceful. In the summer, I can go outside and maybe see two or three people. That’s comforting to me.

My swimming didn’t start with confidence. I still remember finishing a meet as a kid, seeing my name dead last, and thinking, Wow. This really sucks. I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to keep doing it.

A few weeks later, I swam another meet and finished second or third, which was eye-opening. From there, I started improving every meet. Soon I was top-three all the time, sometimes winning. That’s when the fire showed up: You can actually do this. How far can you take it?

My siblings swam, but they were done after high school. My brother would say, “You just beat my best.” Those conversations helped me see progress in a very real way.

But the biggest influence was my mom, not because she pushed me constantly, but because she taught me how to think about work. Do it with purpose.

Why the U.S. was the dream

I knew pretty early (sometime around sixth or seventh grade) that I wanted to swim in college in the United States. We had an Olympic swimmer from Latvia, Uvis Kalniņš, who swam for Missouri State. Seeing someone from home go overseas and translate that to the Olympic level made me think: That’s the path.

The year before I moved, reality hit. I’m going to a different country, living by myself, training under different ideas. But my coach kept it simple: you won’t have many chances to do this, and if you don’t like it, you can come back.

My mom’s story also pushed me toward the U.S. She knew what it was like to train at an extreme level and what it costs when the “work” becomes your whole identity. When she talked to me about training, it wasn’t about chasing huge yardage. It was always: Can you do good work today?

That mindset became important once I started thinking about the future. I’m majoring in applied physiology and sport management and I’ve started to imagine coaching one day. I love being at the pool, even if I’m not swimming.

And a lot of that comes back to her and what she learned, in a way that far surpasses her accomplishments.

Intensity, language, and learning how to work smart

My first two years at SMU were challenging. The U.S. system felt completely different than the European system. It was hard physically, but also mentally. I was trying to learn the sport again in a new language and a new culture.

Outside the pool, English was the biggest challenge. Back home, you have English class, then your day goes back to your own language. Here, it’s all day. You’re living it.

In the water, it was the intensity. SMU training is demanding, with doubles and back-to-back-to-back days that test you. I think our program is one of the hardest in the country.

That’s where my mom’s influence shows up again. SMU can be a place where you just try to survive on effort. But I had her voice in my head: quality over quantity. Work smart. If you’ve worked hard for two days, you have to let your body recover.

The thing I love most is our competitive environment.

Every day, somebody shows up ready to go. One recent morning, it was me and Trey Clervi, a freshman breaststroker, going head-to-head. When I was a freshman, I was racing older guys every day, learning that you can swim the best you think you have and someone still touches a second ahead.

The thing I love most is our competitive environment. Every day, somebody shows up ready to go.

Records, unfinished business, and the next right thing

Racing at Europeans [the meet] meant a lot because it’s always special to represent Latvia. Swimming under your country’s flag is a different feeling. The field was loaded, and I wanted to prove I can compete with the top in the world.

Going into that meet, I didn’t feel great physically. It was two weeks after the SMU Invite, and I felt like I had peaked there.

Then after my first event, when I broke a national record, I remembered something swimming teaches you: feeling doesn’t always matter. You can feel horrible and swim an amazing time.

But it was bittersweet. My main goal wasn’t time, it was making semifinals. I missed the Top 16 by about half a second and getting that second swim.

I was proud to be a national record holder, but in the back of my mind it was still, I didn’t get what I came for. That gives you something to chase.

After college, I want to focus on swimming for one more year by finding a pro team, most likely in Europe. If I have a chance to stay in Dallas, I’d love it. But the goal is long course, and the childhood dream has always been the Olympics.

LA2028 is on top of my priority list.

And when I’m unsure, I go back to the advice I was given: “Do the next right thing.” My mom taught me what the “right thing” looks like in training: purpose, efficiency, quality.

Now it’s on me to live it, one day at a time.