Creative Writing: Swimmers

My head went back, and my feet popped up. I felt the frigid water seep into my hair, and soak my scalp. I heard my mom’s soft voice trying to keep me calm, and reminding me to keep my bellybutton up to the air as if some puppet master was holding it up by a string. Every time my mom tried to let me float by myself, my feet would begin to sink. It was as if I was a weight on a fishing line pulling it down into the dark abyss. I couldn’t seem to stay relaxed, I was as stiff as a two by four. That fire was still burning my inner forest deep within me. I remember startling myself out of the float, because I did not feel my mom’s hands supporting me anymore. I scrambled for footing on the bottom of the pool floor feeling the rough pool floor slip past my toes a couple times before I got the traction to stand up. I was kind of confused for a moment as I tried to get the water out of my eyes and nose. My family was now all out in the pool area, and I realized the moment I have been dreading for the past few years of my short life was here and I knew it. My family was going to have me jump off the diving board, in hopes that it would dissipate my excruciating fear of water. My heart was beginning to pound through my

In the short story, “The Swimmer,” John Cheever uses precise literary devices to emphasize the true meaning behind what the average reader might first gather. Throughout this short story, Neddy’s journey is recorded through what he does and how the time changes. His actions of “jumping from pool to pool” show Neddy’s incapabilities of growing up and the falsehood that he lives in. John Cheever wants the readers to understand that Neddy’s life is only a downfall as the years go by, and that his outlook on life doesn’t change until he realizes all his actions have left him alone. To set the tone of the story, the author uses metaphors of different objects to show Neddy’s changes in life, change of diction to set a tone from excellence to weakness, and Neddy’s life paralleled through the imagery described in this short story.

My parents tell me that I took to swimming like... a fish takes to water. It is a safe place where I can float free of worries. Driven by passion and dedication, I decided to begin swimming competitively. Competitive swimming requires an intense level of determination and discipline. Forcing myself to get out of my warm bed at 5:30 in the morning to put on a still-slightly-damp swimsuit and stand in 40-degree weather waiting for practice to start. Putting up with limited lane space and irritating swimmers who think they are faster. Making a conscious effort to work on my stroke form, turns, touches, and techniques. The water becomes a whirlpool of injuries, losses, wins, friendships, enemies, and sickness. The water becomes home.

It was sometime around 6:00 p.m. on a Thursday night in the middle of January 2016. There was a swim meet going on and it was just about to start. The teams were warming up and getting ready for the meet that was due to start in the coming hour. I was warmed up and concentrating on the race listening to music in my newly acquired platinum studio beats. The music was loud and the nerves were setting as I walked into the locker room with my friend and teammate. As we passed I said good luck to our teammate who I was racing against in the 200 free style. Then out of know were he pulled my friend to the side and whispered something in his ear. I didn’t hear what was said as I had continued to walk. My friend came over to me and I asked what he had said and he told me. He told me

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

“Get up now,” My mom yelled down the hallway. “Hurry or you’ll be late!” My brother and I dreaded waking up early to swim, but we had chosen to commit. Even though I’ve competed every year since first grade, I still struggled. That summer swimming taught me to have stamina, the ability to not quit even though it was hard.

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

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.

This moment was what we had worked for our entire swimming careers. It was exhilarating. It felt like we were on top of the world. I felt as though everything below me was moving in slow motion but, I didn't mind because I wanted this feeling to last forever. I had the medal around my neck and I was smiling with pure joy.

I opened my eyes at the bottom of the deep end and saw water swirling around me. “How in the world will I ever reach the top?” I thought. I repeated Emily’s words in my head, “You can do this, Clover, You can do this Clover, You can do this, Clover!” I did what years of swim teaching at Daland had taught me. I pushed the bottom of my feet against the bottom of the water.

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Hearing the whistle, I immediately dove into the water. It was just a typical afternoon swim practice and the regional swim meet was almost here. We’ve been training and practicing all season for this event. Every afternoon after school we would go to the YMCA pool to practice. I’ve been working on long distance swimming, such as the freestyle 200 and 500. The night before the regional swim meet arrived, and I happened to get sick. I felt weak, stiff, and exhausted. There was no way I could do well in any event that was going to occur the next day. I took some medicine and had some tea to try and feel better. Nothing really helped. All there was to do was hope. The next day arrived… feeling sick

     "The Swimmer" by John Cheever describes Neddy Merril's "swim" home. Neddy is a husband and a father, he is also a drunk. The story encompasses about twenty years of his life of alcohol which ruined not only him but also his relationship with his family. One day after waking up with a hangover he drinks a little and decides to swim home. It is obvious he is a drunk because he is constantly searching for a drink on his swim home.

13 years. It has been 13 years since I first plunged into the pool to begin my first lesson. I was small, skinny, and shy at the time, not willing to talk to people. I had tried other sports; baseball, soccer, basketball, but I found those to difficult. My dad first brought me to a pool, to splash around in the play area. But I soon found myself wanting to go the deeper parts where the whirlpool and the lazy river were. So I began group lessons on the basics on how to swim, most of the other participants were older than me so I did not make conversation with them. After I finished a couple of lessons and learned how to swim the most basic two strokes; freestyle and breaststroke, I joined a summer team, the Bradley Farm Wave. I was not very

My hands dangle in mid-air, my googles snug against the border of my eyes, my mind empty as I stare into the sea of blue before me. The announcers voice echoes over the seemingly quiet deck. The faceless voice proceeds, “On your mark,” this sent the anxiety, and butterflies through my entire body as I gripped the rigged block. As my hands rest now on this pleated surface, I think of all the time and effort I had put in just for today. I knew that if everything went smoothly, I would drop a satisfactory amount of time. “Get set,” the changeless voice declares. My body now shifts my weight to my legs, my head moves into position, and my hands grip the block so bearish that my knuckles turn white. I repeat to myself, “two hand touch, it’s a

The next part of the training turned out to be the toughest. We were required to dive ten feet to the bottom of the pool and retrieve a ten pound weight. Once the weight was brought to the surface we were supposed to tread water for two minutes while keeping the weight above the water line. This appeared to be simple so I dived in, expecting an easy time. I had no trouble getting the weight to the surface and proceeded to tread water with a feeling of undoubtable success. But once again my anti-floating physical quality began to take effect. At one minute and thirty seconds I began to sink and within the next fifteen seconds my head was submerged and I was fighting for air. The water from the pool began flowing into my mouth with each desperate grasp for air; it felt as if an ocean were draining into my body. I remember hearing from under the water the instructor's muffled voice counting down the last ten seconds of the exercise. When it was all over I slowly made my way back to the pool's edge where I was informed by the two young girls that they had no difficulty