Cheaper To Me

At first it was nice and calm till I looked down, and I was there shocked. There were so many sharks and sting rays. I looked up and kept swimming forward and telling myself nothing bad will happen to you Mhari, nothing. After calming down some I looked down and nothing that bad. I brought my head up and took a big

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,

I ran back up the hill to our camp, trying to move quickly without wasting too much energy, took my inhaler, and rushed back down the hill. Soon, it was time for the race to start. The officials gave an overview of information about the race and how it would start. The official behind us blew a long whistle. We stood, motionless, just waiting for that starting gunshot. Pow! The race was off. I sprinted out of the pack. I tried to find a good pace and settle in. We ran up a few hills, and then we made it to the first entrance to the creek. Unintelligently, I didn’t slow down very much going into the creek. Because I didn’t slow down, I splashed into the creek with a belly flop, almost submerging my whole body underwater. I got up quickly, then began to climb up the mud wall. I clawed at that wall like it was my enemy. I avoided the rope, even though it actually wasn’t that busy at the moment. I was too focused to switch strategies. We continued to run on, passing many fans, their cheers a chaotic blur. We passed through the second part of the creek, which was not nearly as deep. It was only about mid-shin to knee level, so I made my way through just fine. We ran all over the vineyard. I wasn’t feeling too awful. I was just caught up in the thrill of the race! We made it to the cornfields, and there were lots of small hills. I ran through them staring at the ground, and I kept seeing the same pair of shoes. For some strange reason, I kept staring at those shoes. People do crazy things when they run, you could say! Anyways, I passed the person wearing those shoes. We ran away from the corn fields and under a bridge. I was coming closer and closer to the finish. I was struggling to continue, but I would not quit! I pushed through the pain, but by the end of the race, I was just done. I saw the final hill in front of me. It was one of the biggest hills on the course, if not the biggest, and it was definitely the most difficult after

As if it were an instinct, my body launched itself into the freezing cold water. I snapped my arms quickly, like my coach had told me, swimming the stroke of butterfly. However, half way through the lap, my arms drew weary and began to drag slightly.

As she swam she seemed to be reaching out for the unlimited in which to lose herself. Once she turned and looked toward the shore, toward the people she had left there. She had not gone any great distance - that is, what would have been a great distance for an experienced swimmer. But to her unaccustomed vision the stretch of water behind her assumed the aspect of a barrier which her unaided strength would never be able to overcome” (Page 57).

when the Persia’s fleets of 20,000 soldiers and their top generals sailed across the Aegean Sea to reach the plain of Marathon, north of Athens. As a result, the Athenians sent Philippides, the fastest runner, “who ran approximately 150 miles in two days to request the help of the Spartans.” However, the Spartans insisted on “celebrating the religious festival of Artemis-Carneia” before going into battle. After the Athenians received the dreadful news, the Athenian general named Miltiades and his outnumbered Athenian soldiers marched to the top of the hills of the Marathon. The Athenian soldiers and Miltiades charged down the hills in unison using the hoplite technique as they smashed into the lightly armed Persian’s defense lines and they strengthened their two wings as they pushed the Persian’s soldiers around and back into the sea. Most of the Persian’s soldiers were either killed in battle or drowned in the sea, but some of Persian soldiers escaped back to their ships. The Athenian soldiers who fought heroically to try to climb over the side of the Persian’s ships were praised and honored for their amputated right hand when they returned home to Athens.

Touching on how the Navy trains seals, the viewers got to see how candidates deal with their fear of drowning. Entering the water with bound hands and feet, the men were seen trying to refrain from panicking while undoing the ropes. This practice exercise didn’t have one candidate respond well as he started to get

Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. Oh, I have suffered with those that I saw suffer. A brave vessel Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her Dashed all to pieces. Oh, the cry did knock. Against my very heart!

A piece of me is pulled in each direction by this ghost that seems to own me. But I refuse to let this muse abuse, confuse, or misuse my life. For it is mine, not yours time, nor your never changing sway.

Vast four meter high walls dull in colour that’s all that stood between us and the fighting, I didn’t want to leave I felt safe. The birds in the distance flying around in perfect harmony like any other day, we were close to land, my gut was tense I could almost taste the last thing I ate. I didn’t want to show my nerves to these people I call brothers so I put a brave face on, I presume that’s what everyone else was doing. Our squad was reinforcements to the surviving few holding off the enemies. Word quickly spread that we were about to hit land, as the boat touched land my knees felt weak it was with the crowed I moved to the front of the boat.

I can hear my heart beating through the thick blanket of heaving breaths. I cannot help but wonder if I will hear that sound much longer. For the first time I consider the thought that I could easily be killed before I even find the one I’m here for. The Mercians have come to face us. We prepare to charge when the order comes. I say a swift prayer for protection and victory. The call comes, though I barely hear it through the piercing sound of my own ears ringing. It takes my mind a moment to process that it is time to charge so I am behind at the jump. As I sprint off into battle, I get boxed in by warriors slower than myself. People are being impaled around me as I weave through stampeding bodies, searching for my target. Cries of agony and thrill are unceasingly filling the air accompanied by the sounds of metal striking metal and spears forcing their way through weaker

My first reason is that people wouldn't need to take a car ride to get there. With no car ride people won't get sick as much from car sickness. If there are still people who get sick from the car ride, they can have kids get their groceries for them. So, with not as many people driving into town there might not be as many car accidents, so it would be much safer.

The ship was 100 feet away from the mainland. The Mycenaeans had their bows drawn back and spears ready to throw. They were surprised by the attack but we had been prepared for months. “3,” I shouted “2, 1!” My troops let the arrows fly. Mycenaeans fell to their knees, screaming in agony. A horn sounded in the distance. More enemy troops appeared. Spears were flying everywhere. Soon, all my troops were dead the floor was slick with blood. I set sail for Crete and left.

Our plan was to fight and win, nothing more. However, in the distance I noticed a vessel definitely not one of our own, I braced myself for impact from the Greek vessel. With all my hope in Artemisia, I hoped she had a plan and in that split moment she gave out the command:” Turn the ship! Now!” Everyone was confused, it was going to crash our ship into one of our own. No one moved for a minute, we stood frozen until once more she gave out the command “ Turn the ship! Now!” Everyone started to hustle, back and forth in a panic. We didn’t know what to expect now.

This was the exchange between my swim coach and I just seconds before I swam my last fifty yard butterfly race of the year, at the biggest swim meet of the summer. With only ten people qualifying for a second swim, I narrowly made the margin with a time of thirty-one and one hundredths of a second, and was seated in last place. I was determined in all of my being to prove the ranks wrong. Not only this, I was also resolved to beat my previous time by three seconds, which is difficult to do in such a short race. Despite the confident air I had assumed when speaking with my coach, my nerves were rather restless. I could feel the butterflies in the pit of my stomach spread to the southernmost tips of my fingertips and toes. My breath was uneven. Contributing to this anxiety, I knew I was not in the best shape. This summer had been one of multiple trips to Grandma’s, filled with many eaten “Chips Ahoy!” cookies. Both my coach and I knew this, but only one of us had low expectations. For some reason, rooted in my competitive nature, it was imperative that I swam a personal best and score major points for the team. Even if it was against all odds, I had to achieve this goal.