Beep's Poem: Refugee Y Swim

"BEEEEEP!" Turning off the familiar but annoying sound of the alarm, lying in bed until the last possible second, I admit: this is the big day. All those practices and early mornings will be rewarded today. Finally crawling out of bed to get ready for the meet, I grab my goggles, a towel, water, and a quick breakfast on the way out the door. Checking in with the coach before finding the rest of the team as the pool area becomes louder with every passing minute while more and more people arrive at the big event. Sitting and resting, I try to save all my energy for the race. I put my headphones in and turn music on as I try to begin to focus. Talking to friends to try to calm nerves. It is time.

Being on my school’s diving team has had its ups and downs but one the biggest setbacks I went through while on the team was my freshman year when I got a concussion. I was doing a simple reverse dive I under rotated enough that when I hit the water, it pushed my head into my knee. I am unsure whether or not I blacked out but all I remembered was climbing out of the pool dizzy and confused. I went to a doctor and found out I had a concussion. Having a concussion was a big setback in itself, but what made it the worst was that the conference meet was coming up in about a week. I had to rest for the remainder of the week and was cleared to practice again the next Monday. Because of the whole situation I felt like quitting all together. I only had three days of practice before the conference meet and had nothing prepared. I did not think it would be possible for me to practice all eleven of my dives that I needed to do at the meet in time. Then I remembered my goal for the season: to earn my varsity letter. I had not achieved my goal yet and the conference meet was my last chance to do so. I was not about to

Imagine taking one step into a chlorine-filled arena. The humid air rushes onto your skin. An immense smile spreads across your face. This is because you know everything is about to change. In less than 24 hours you will be holding a glistening gold medal in your hand, standing up on the podium while the Star Spangled Banner blares for the whole world to hear and tears will stream down your face. Taking one look back at your coach, Teri McKeever, you realize if it wasn’t for her you would not be here. Graciously, you run up, swing your arms around her body, and embrace her in a powerful hug that says it all. Swimming is a very intense sport and consumes every second of a swimmer’s free time. However, putting in hundreds

I woke up nauseous, too sick to eat. The whole drive there I was praying it would be cancelled. The fear consumed me; I couldn’t move. I just wanted to be home in my warm, comfy bed, instead I was diving into an ice cold pool. After warm-up my coach gave me a pep talk, but I was too nervous to listen. Sometimes I got so nervous I’d throw up, right before my event. To this day I still don’t understand why I got so anxious at swim meets. For the past several years, I have had a love hate relationship with swimming. I always struggled with swimming, and many times I wanted to quit. The time commitment and the physical requirements have always been a little too much for my mind to handle and it all comes to a crescendo when it is time to compete. I often wondered why I continued to put

The water was an icy shock. It made my muscles tighten as I began my eight lap warm up. Focusing on my arm movements, I struggle to keep up with the others in my lane.

You’re lining up now!” You turn and look at the whiteboard, and sure enough, a big 19 is spread across the top. Although it pains you to do it, you remove your heated, comfy layer of sweats, exposing your newly formed goosebumps, and head down to the pool. When you arrive at the table, a woman checks off your name and tells you to sit in the fourth chair down. It’s only been an hour, and the woman looks as though she has been working for three days straight. You don’t recognize either of the girls sitting next to you. It turns out that the girl to your right is from Watertown, and the girl to your left is from Cortland. You strike up a conversation with the girl from Watertown, and it turns out that you have a lot in common. Gradually, the line would inch forward, and you would be stuck sitting in someone else's chair, in which they had left a pool of water in, so you resort to sitting on the very edge of the chair. About two races before your own, your coach walks by, and starts talking to you, knowing that you are very nervous. “Don’t worry about it, you will do fine! Just remember, the faster you swim, the faster you’ll be able to dry off and get warm again.” You nod and laugh shyly and continue to anxiously wait for your race.

In this extraordinary book, the world’s most extraordinary distance swimmer writes about her emotional and spiritual need to swim and about the almost mystical act of swimming itself. Lynne Cox trained hard from age nine, working with an Olympic coach, swimming five to twelve miles each day in the Pacific. At age eleven, she swam even when hail made the water “like cold tapioca pudding” and was told she would one day swim the English Channel. Four years later—not yet out of high school—she broke the men’s and women’s world records for the Channel swim. In 1987, she swam the Bering Strait from America to the Soviet Union—a feat that,

During the spring of 2015, I missed all of the time cuts to make Speedo Sectionals, forcing me to compete in a much slower meet at the end of the season. There are few things I have experienced that are more crushing than trying my hardest and falling short of my goal. Despite the heavy disappointment, I used the opportunity to harden my resolve and use my strengths to my greatest advantage. Along with my coach’s help, I used my ability to think strategically and hone my technique through focus on the smallest details from how I would approach a swim mentally to how I would warm up. My coach had many important and useful suggestions and lessons from his past experience that required me to be an active learner that could apply his information.

Just before we arrived at the meet Coach Tuch had asserted to the team, “This is it, the day we have been training for guys. You truly need to give this one your all.” As soon as I knew it we were there. I felt like throwing up and crying all at the same time. It was cold, windy, and dry. The course was rough. As Shelby and I were warming up for our race we both knew that this was going to be one of the most challenging race of our lives. We were done and the race was about start as I heard Sydney yell, “ You got this girls let’s go!”

I heard the announcer on his microphone call you for ages 14 to 15 reps in 45 minutes I went down to the water to see what I really got myself into and surprisingly it was not too cold but it definitely woke me up. 20 minutes I heard him call out but then people started grouting around the water 10 minutes he started the race in knee-deep water the countdown has begun 5958 57 my heart beaded faster and faster my knees were shaking people were cheering 10 98 I put my hate hands out ready to dive 4321 and I went went reaching my arms as far as they can get kicking my feet with power. When I turn my head to breathe you could hear people's cheering and screaming around that the Bewley I went falling behind a kid as I was reading the sand I pulled myself as hard as I could to the beach and ran to the transition station my body Felt like rapper I was so cold as it was changing my shoes as best as I could grab some water and I was off rating my bike out on the road my mom screaming is all I heard passing my family with

The journey of competitive swimming started at the age of eight for my local `neighborhood team. I exhibited great potential for the future, for I won nearly all my races. This seemed like the sport

In the beginning I felt like I should just quit, but I thought, what was all that practice for then? So I kept running anyways. I passed a couple guys while we're going up and down, left and right. There were many people on the side cheering and even though they weren’t cheering for me, it helped me keep running. The run went by very quickly and the finish line came up in a flash. Many people around me started sprinting, but I felt like throwing up at that point. I slowed down, but then I heard my dad cheering on for me. I couldn't let him down, so I ignored the feeling of throwing up and sprinted. I kept on running passing a couple people, and it was over. I came in 19th place. I went to my dad disappointed for letting him

We quickly received a summer training schedule and I started training. I soon came to the realization that this sport was just what I needed. Cross-country was the key that unlocked my jail cell, and I started dropping times – fast. As my freshman season came to a close, I ran a personal record (PR) of 19:49, somewhat rare among brand new runners. At around the same time, my dad received orders to move back to Pace, Florida, where I had spent part of my elementary school days. I joined my new team but unfortunately could not perform well. I didn’t run very much after my freshman season, so I basically had to start from scratch with a 25:05 time trial. As a result of hard work, I PR’d in my last race with a 19:36, but that wasn’t the highlight of the season. I had people helping me through this struggle the whole

I knew the first couple weeks of practice were going to drag on, but I was ready for whatever workout coach was going to throw at me. Then came meets and the fun really started. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely feeling the nerves, but it didn’t stop me. The first indoor meet was at Buena Vista College and I was in the open 400, the one race I had been training for. I was so anxious to see what my time was going to be that I was shaking. I just kept telling myself, “This is what you worked for. Everything that you have worked for starts showing now.” I ended up getting my PR and winning the race. It was the first of many heart pounding meets. As the season went on, every meet started to count even more and I was getting frustrated because my time wasn’t getting better. After crying to my dad one night after a meet, I realized that what did matter is that I wasn't getting worse either. I was maintaining my time and that counted for something. A couple weeks later I was standing in my blocks at the district meet trying to maintain my nerves. After the hardest 400 of my life, I ended up making it to state and I could not have been

Even though I had swum on a relay with my lane mates at the MHSAA D1 State Championship Meet the season before, come in seventh place out of the entire state with them on that relay, and shattered the Varsity record with them, I still doubted my ability to make the required pace times. “Get ready girls, this should be a super fun set!” Our coach jokingly shouted. In my mind, I was writing my will, dedicating the set we were about to swim—which I thought was going to be my last—to my teammates, and preparing for the absolute