Descriptive Essay About Swimming

“Take your marks”, the referee said then boom as fast as lighting I heard the beep and leapt from the blocks and raced my heart out. As I raced I felt amazing hitting ever flip turn perfectly not missing a stroke and then I finished looked up and say I had done it. I beat the kid who said I was bad and couldn’t swim. We then all got out and I went over to congratulate him. We sho hands and said good job but that’s when I asked him why he had said those words. He didn’t know why he had done it. He apologized and said that he had underestimated me, and from this day on he was no longer so cocky, his temple had been crushed and he no longer underestimated me. So this shows and explains the morals of this story. You can have a different perspective on people or judge them in a wrong way. This person happened to look at me and think to himself that I was a bad swimmer, somebody who would never win, and somebody who would never beat him. He looked at me and judged me before he even knew if I was good or not. I beat him and proved to him that I wasn’t this “sucky swimmer”, and this is the story of when someone miss judged

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

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.

It wasn’t like any other swim practice, no, not like any other I’d ever gone to. No one usually moved to Minot, North Dakota that was also in swimming, so when Emily Pitcher and her family moved to town and came to practice, it was quite a shock for everyone on the team. She moved from Colorado and she had 2 younger brothers and a younger sister as well. They seemed nice enough but there was something about Emily, who was my age, which seemed a bit off.

Marie and I had just left her house and were walking to the tryouts. It was a really quick walk because she lives only 2 houses away from the studio. This was back in August 2017, a few days after dance camp ended for the summer. We hurried down the stairs to go inside and kept talking about how nervous and excited we were the whole way down. Once we got inside of Bleker’s, we started talking to the other girls. After just a few minutes we were all taken into the dance room and together we all learned a hip hop, jazz, and tap routine. We only had about 30 minutes to learn all of the routines so we were all feeling a little rushed. Before we knew it, the dance teachers put us into groups of 3-5 girls. These groups were the people we would perform our dance routines with. My group was Meghan S, Grace, and I.

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

I wake up. It’s the day of the show. I feel a nervous knot in my stomach and the pressure on my shoulders. I was the only person on my team to qualify for IEA Regional’s. Usually on show days we get up early and to the barn by 6 or 7. Today was different, I didn’t need to be there until noon. I couldn’t sleep though, so I got up and got dressed. The show was in Charleston, so my dad and I went the night before to spend time downtown. After breakfast we drove to Starbucks to buy some time before meeting my coach at the show.

It wasn’t till I came on my first visit to Jewell that I was told that I actually could swim for Jewell if I wanted to, and I did want to. Coach Gole told me that if I wanted to swim for Jewell that I should probably join a club team and recommended two that were in the area, Tsunami and Club North. Two of my three high school coaches also coached on Club North, the third coach was responsible for keeping track of people who wanted to join the team and getting them into the correct place, and many of the fastest kids on my team swam for Club North, which made it a no brainer for me to request to join that team. Since my assistant coach was in charge of the waiting list, se pulled some strings and got me on Club North in November, shortly after high school season ended. At first I was overwhelmed by the difficulty of the practices compared to what I was used to, and I felt like the slowest one in my group. It took longer than it should have for me to get back into shape because I was also the manager of the girls’ high school team and I often missed practice due to the fact that I was at the girls’ meets. I paid little attention to that fact because I loved being the manager. It was so much fun to be a part of the girls’ team, to get to know each and every girl and to watch them

The school day ends, and while most students go home, swimmers still have one final practice to complete before heading home. In the time before practice starts, those who are participating in conference take a look at the psych sheet with all their times and competitors’ times with mixed emotions.

Joining a team with kids ranging from five to eighteen, it can be hard. It seemed as if everyone already knew each other. At first, I felt like an outcast, but not for long, once I proved I could swim fast. It took time learning names and getting used to the practices, but in the end my entrance into this group was easy compared to the practices I had to go through. The coaches, swimmers, the swimmers’ parents became my second family. We all believed in hard work, having fun, and racing when the time came. Our norms were putting in the effort when swimming and if you did, it would pay off in the meets. Slacking off was never rewarded and always sanctioned. Either the coach or your parent, or both, would yell at you, which distracted others, which could ultimately cause you to be kicked out of practice for that day. Although I never got kicked out of practice, I was given the infamous nickname, Snax. It was not necessarily a bad nickname, it came about because I had a habit of always having snacks. We all got nick names from something we had done or just because. My best friend was Yugi, because his younger brother had called him that, my other friend we called squid; it was just part of the culture of being on the

Our car rolled and bounced along the grey and dusty gravel road that reeked of gasoline and exhaust. Finally, we came to the entrance of the patchy green fields to start my first practice. I soon learned that there would be no need to be nervous as we all worked hard on this team and all became friends and were very serious about the sport. Every week we attended the five hours of practice and worked our butts off every practice. Finally, It became time to talk about our first games together that were that weekend. Before practice started coach pulled us aside and talked to us about the tourney. We were excited and prepared, but I think all of us were a little nervous. When we got to the tournament we warmed up for our game and and did some quick warm up drills. The game started and my chest was pounding out of my chest thumping so hard I could feel every beat. FWEEE! The whistle sounded and our team advanced on the field passing and running around. The ball was passed to me and I panicked and passed it right back. I realized that I needed to calm down so took a little break on the bench and settled down and got back out on the

     "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.

The fascinating, open air swimming pool is located near a tremendous ocean with its beautiful view. Swimming pool is construct with the cool blue tiles that enhance the color of water in the pool. Day is not so hot due to slight breeze that touching the people faces softly. Water in the pool is blue as the sky and clean as the crystal. Cool blue Water of pool is soothing the eyes and refreshing mind and body. The place is busy and crowded with visitors. People there wanted to dive in the deep of water. Youngsters diving in the pool with eyes closed, arms outstretched feeling their heart before feeling the depth of water. Splashing of water on others seems very interesting and a great fun for children. They seems to enjoy splashing on their

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

This made my body less buoyant and my speed somewhat slow. There were two sixteen year old girls in the lanes on either side of me who swam with the agility of dolphins. These girls and everyone else beat me to the finish, which did not help my nineteen-year-old ego. I wanted to crawl away and hide but was determined not to let myself be outdone.