The grandstand's metal seat sears through my shorts as I sit alone, sweat beading on my forehead, my pulse racing in sync with the ripples in the pool below.

Serbia’s July sun beats down mercilessly, but it's not just the heat that's making my palms clammy.

It's 2012. I'm 15, and it's my first time overseas without a parent.

I'm with my club water polo team in Belgrade for a training camp before the National Championships.

We’re at Partizan, arguably the world’s most famous club, known for its long list of Olympians. 

I’m excited to test myself against the best. I rate myself. How good could they be? I started playing water polo 4 years ago. Between swimming, gym, and actual sessions, I’ve been training up to 13 times a week. It’s all I do and think about.

Two years ago, I was chosen for my school’s 1st XI team as one of the youngest in history. I’ve won multiple MVP awards and aim to play for Australia. My teammates share this ambition, and they’re the best players I’ve ever played with; we’re practically a representative team.

As we warm up, I size up the Partizan team. It's hard to gauge, but I'm feeling confident.

The game starts with a five-minute tussle. Then, Partizan breaks through with a long-range goal. They score 15 more in the next three quarters.

In the final quarter, I’m chasing an opponent when he suddenly stops, turns, and kicks me in the neck. The umpire misses it. I can’t keep playing, and my manager takes me to a nearby hospital.

Hours later, I'm in a sterile hospital room. The doctor's words barely registering. "Rest, ice, and painkillers," he says, but all I can think is, "Every player on that team is better than me. And they're all two years younger. How will I ever be good enough to play for Australia? I might as well give up now." My dream has been shattered.

The next day, I'm back at the pool, but unable to train. Feeling dejected, I wander around the aquatic center and find ~50 players swimming in straight lines, in soldier-like fashion. As I get closer, I notice how young they look.

I ask the coach their age. "These players are 6 years old," he replies. I'm stunned.

It strikes me. There’s a reason a team 2 years younger than us beat us by 15 goals. Not because we’re bad, but because we started later.

Takeaway: Don't compare your 1st iteration to someone else's 100th.

In life, people start at different times. Sometimes they start on third base, but you don’t know that from the outside.

“Comparison is the thief of joy” is often misinterpreted.

Comparison shows you what’s possible, but don’t feel behind. 99 times out of 100, the most likely explanation is that someone started before you or had advantages you can’t see from the outside.

Only compare yourself to your starting point.

—

Later that year in Brisbane, we went on to win the national championship gold medal game by 10 goals. I was chosen for an extended Australian training squad as an 'under-ager.'

We weren’t so bad after all.

But it's also no surprise Serbia has won the last 3 Olympic games, twelve years later.