Personal Narrative Of Summer Swimming

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.

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

For starters, I was embarrassed by the mental image of myself flailing around in the water and for what I perceived as making a mockery of the team I represented. Not only this, but I became livid with myself, for the hardest and fastest I was able to make my body move still was not enough to comply with my personal expectations. The vow I created on the car ride home still stands in effect to this date; to strive to my greatest potential, making the goal universal for every characteristic of my life.

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.

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.

As i read pages 114-115, i understood the anticipation of the rowing race in poughkeepsie. First, as the coaches held final workouts at night, i imagined their drive to win when they would go over rowing strategies. On the race day, as i read the passage, i witnessed a large crowd of people that were filled with excitement. Also, as if i were there myself, i tried to imagine the scent of fuel from the coaches’ boats. I felt the freshmen’s team will to win, along with the coaches.

A large number of swimmers don’t like it, whether that be because of the sheer difficulty, or because swimming makes them anxious, or because they’ve simply been swimming for so long that they are no longer entertained. The last option is the one that seems to hold true for most club swimmers who no longer find joy in the sport, the ones who have been doing it for five, eight, even eleven years. Those are the people who are simply tired of it. I, on the other hand, love swimming and the feeling of gliding though the water. People will tell you that no one, in any sport, really enjoys practices, but I can honestly tell you that I do. For at least the last five months I have looked forward to swim practice everyday. If nothing else, I know that I have an outlet for my anger, frustration, or any other emotion that I may have. At best, I know that I have a group of friends who are all working to achieve the same goal as I am and that I can always lean on them for support and they can always lean on me, if need be. The feeling of swimming a good race is one of the best feelings in the world. When you can tell that you're just flying through the water and you have everyone’s attention and you know that you're better than you were the last time you raced, better than you were yesterday. I guess maybe that’s the thing I like about practice, that everyday I’m

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.

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

At the time I fully believed he made us run just to make us stronger, also I think he got some happiness from our pain. Either way, I knew that I hated it and this man was not going to get me to compete for him. One day after practice, he pulled me aside before I could go back to the locker-room to change.

The season was coming to a close, and at this thought, my chest contracted and my eyes fluttered. The Founders League Tournament was around the corner, and the coaches were beginning to assemble the all stars of each event. Although I was steadily improving my 100m time, the cutoff for running in Founders was at 11.2, and I was off by a tenth of a second. My shoulders slumped and the breeze from the wind hit the back of my neck as my head hung loose from my body. Although disheartened, I was chosen to be in the 4x100 relay team to run at Founders, bringing my head back up. This year, Taft would host Founders, giving us a home field edge. As the date came closer, practices intensified, but my legs felt looser and stronger than ever. Before

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

By this time I had started to go through puberty and became taller which enabled me to swim faster. The morning group was full of dedicated swimmers who were crazy enough to get up every morning to go jump into a pool and practice. Of course I was no different, but during April of that season I had started to lose my motivation. I began to skip practices and gave my parents excuses, which then they told me to take it easy. After two months of periodic practices, I realized that swimming was an activity that I wanted to do and that I loved, and I decided that I would not allow myself to quit, no matter how hard it became. When the new season started, I started to push myself, trying to keep up to the faster swimmers. I became close with my team mates as people who go through pain together get closer. We started to have more fun together from going out, to having funny conversations in the locker rooms. I also began to do travel meets where we would spend a few days together, eating, sleeping, and swimming. I spent more time out of the pool with my friends and even became romantically involved with one. Now, swimming has become one of the most important things to me, it has been the activity that has the most influence on my life. From my work ethic, sleeping habits, to my choice of friends, all of them are tied to

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.