Descriptive Essay On Swimming

For this essay, I am going to be discussing the short story “Swimming” found on the New Yorker, and written by T. Cooper. I have chosen this story for many reasons, and among those reasons is the personal sadness I felt when I first read the story, almost as if the universe was placing a certain theme in my life, that only the main character could possibly understand. I am talking about running, the god given instinct felt by all men, inherent in the nature of fear, and brought out in all who feel sadness in its full intensity. Though in my short life I can not compare the sadness I have felt with that of losing a child at my own hand, but if I had been placed in that situation, if fate had tempted my soul with such a sequence of events, I would like to think I could find the strength to endure and the courage to not abandon all I had previously known. Yet I am able to reconcile the themes of grief, the mode of recovery, and the longing to escape such a terrible tale. I think in this piece, as I will discuss in later parts, the author was able to put into words a transformation we rarely get to observe in closeness, the kind of transformation that turns a kind man into a “just man” the kind of death that turns this world from a beautiful and happy place into a world that is closing in on our main character, that is forcing him to surface temporarily and gasp for air, much like he does when he finds peace in the water, wading breath after air, after sea. I firmly believe that

“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 was bouncing up and down in my car seat my seat belt trying to keep a hold of me. I was so excited to finally get to go to six flags. As we pulled up to get into the parking lot, they wind rushed through my hair, I stuck my head out the window to get a better view of six flags. The rides going back in forth and the people eagerly waiting in line to get in. we pulled up to a parking. The car came to a stopped, everyone jolted forward and then back in their seats. I opened the door stepping out and letting the rest of the people come out. The door slammed behind me and echoed through the parking lot. We made our way getting closer and closer to the amusement park, my older cousins were walking behind me and the young ones who were running across the street playing, my uncle screamed at them to not play in the street.

In Frank Perry’s 1986 film adaptation of “The Swimmer”, Cheever, Neddy, an upper middle class man who decides to swim across his neighbors’ pools home only to discover that his house no longer belongs to him and he is no longer a part of his family, is characterized as a very suave and robust man. The first scene of The Swimmer emphasizes Neddy’s vitality by the ways in which the camera encompasses Neddy’s body and that of his friends, the addition of two characters as well as additional interactions between Neddy and the women in this text. This contrasts the characterization of Neddy in the short story in the sense that Cheever’s Neddy is not presented as this sexual and aggressively masculine figure.

During my collegiate years of school, I want to make them my personal growth period. My academic plan includes an architecture major that will allow me to become a suitable urban planner/architect. In the pool, I will be a dynamic swimmer, as well as a positive and encouraging teammate. As I constantly grow physically and mentally through my college swimming career, I will become well diverse in freestyle events from the 50 to the 1650. Being a college athlete, I know the responsibility and commitment in which is expected of me. I will pursue to honor myself, teammates, coaches, and the school I attend, both on and off the

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.

Proposed by Joseph Campell in his book A Thousand Faces, there is a certain archetype that stories seem to follow. This framework is called the Hero's Journey. Elements of his theory are evident in The Swimmer, a short story written by John Cheever about the journey that Neddy Merrill takes to find his way back home. Campbell was studying myths when he came up with the theory, but it is applicable to most, if not all narratives today. The Swimmer is a short story where we see the protagonist, Neddy Merrill, go through the Hero's Journey.

The Geelong College boys swimming season began in Term 4 2016, and it was evident within the first handful of Saturday competitions that it was going to be a good year with many successes. The season was filled with commitment and enthusiasm, with majority of our team attending many hard and physically demanding training sessions being set day and night, Monday to Friday. With the help and dedication of our coaches Dean Alchin and Mitch Norton the college swim team was ready to take on the GISSA swim competition where we competed against various schools from both Geelong and the Bellarine. The boys swam to the best of their abilities and gave it their all taking away second place overall. Numerous personal bests were swum and it was shown that the boys were ready and pumped to take their swimming to the next level and show what a strong team the college had produced this season at the APS swim finals set at MSAC.

It was 5 A.M. and my thoughts were everywhere. I kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep, but knowing I couldn't. I finally slipped out of bed, carefully so that I wouldn't wake up Olivia, and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I sat down on the living room couch and exhaled deeply as I stared into the sunroof.

“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

During the swim season of my sophomore year I was at the peak of my swimming career. I was swimming great times and had a very successful season. Prior to the regional swim meet I was qualified and all I had to do was swim my qualifying times to advance to the 1A/2A state swim meet. Exactly one week before the regional meet I broke my foot in two places. I was heartbroken because for a swimmer this is what you train for all year long. I felt like all my hard work and hours in the pool were for nothing. I immediately began physical therapy and told my parents I wanted to try and swim the following Saturday at regionals. My foot was not in a cast, but in a boot. My physical therapist even told me there was no way I would be able to swim at regionals.

I could feel my lungs burning in my chest as oxygen entered only to be forced back out. I push myself to continue moving my arms, pushing the water behind me so I could propel myself forward. At that moment, many things floated around my conscience. It was so intense that I felt like giving up everything I had worked so hard for: the 10-hour online-training, the initial interview, the prior physical training, and the self-determination to achieve my goals. These thoughts were embedded in my mind as I took a side breath, struggling to continue my freestyle stroke.

I can feel a knot in my stomach, my heart is racing. I can hear giggles from outside the bathroom stall. I feel beyond nervous about walking out in a skintight black Speedo swim suit. I think to myself its not too late to leave. Finally I conquer all the courage I have and walk out the bathroom stall, as I walk out I see where all the giggles came from. I see some familiar faces and some new ones, I feel like all eyes are on me. Every one inside the locker room had on the same type of unflattering swimsuit as me, but yet I couldn’t stop feeling uncomfortable and out of place. I never really wanted to join the swim team I felt stupid and insecure, but my mother thought it would be a good idea. I had played volleyball and

     "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.

Before I knew it, it was late at night and almost my bedtime. I made my way, up the stairs to the loft, slowly dragging my feet up each huge log stair from being so tired. I finally made my way up to the loft although the only light source was coming from one-single lit candle downstairs on the kitchen table. As I pulled the covers off the tiny twin bed, it was extremely hot, so I decided