Personal Narrative-Swim Analysis

As I mentioned before swimmers aren’t based on their ability to master the techniques but also in the values they posses. The values they posses are respect, honesty, fairness and courage. I had to learn and use those values everyday I went to swimming practice. There’s one thing that I needed to have to become part of the discourse community, which was being passionate about swimming and not giving up. At the beginning it was really hard for me not to give up when I was exhausted, but after becoming more passionate for swimming I never gave up. There were moments when I thought of giving up, but I knew that if I really wanted to call my self a swimmer I shouldn’t give up and I didn’t. For example, once I was in a Swimming Festival in my High School where I competed the four different strokes. I always finished second in the 50-meter freestyle race, but that day I decided I would end up first place. The race started and I jumped into the water and started pacing my self so that I would finish strong. In the first 25-meters we were all tied up and I was starting to feel tired. But I knew I couldn’t give up, so I took a deep breath and pushed harder. I pushed harder and was able to win the first place. After this race, I realized that even though I felt like giving up, something inside me was telling me to push harder and that thought led me to success. I was able to

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.

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

As Black-kids society told us that we were not supposed to be competitive swimmer. No we to relegate ourselves to playing court or field based sport. The Black male swimmer role conflict arising out of my never having mastered any other sport involving a ball, court or field did not arise until a few years ago. The fact that I had a great “2 fly” did not give me any “cred” when it came to my lack of a solid jump shot or my inability to catch the ball at the “50.” This fact was undeniable in high school, where the swim team was white. Swimming on my high school team caused experience a lot of internal conflict. On one side, I would have loved to have friends of my own skin color swim with me, but they all went to public school and I went to private school. However, my private school swim team was much better and faster than the public high school teams my friends were on. So in the end, this simply made me live for and cherish the time I spent every day after school, practicing with all my friends on during DCPR

My life was changed this summer after my winter swim team received unexpected news. We were told that we would no longer be able to practice at the same pool as before, leaving all of the swimmers without a place to practice. Unfortunately, this meant that my team, the Tiger Sharks, would no longer exist. I was devastated and now forced to bring myself upon a new team with unfamiliar faces. On my new team the head coach, Coach Bill, was able to assist me in making this transition easier and he was also exceptionally inviting to me and the other new swimmers. His unique training allowed me to immensely improve my swimming.

Your freshman year of college is supposed to be fun and exciting but for me it was exactly the opposite. I didn’t understand my classes and even my cozy dorm room felt uncomfortable. I was doing everything I could to stay afloat until finally I began to drown. After struggling through the year I made one of the greatest decisions of my life, I moved home.

“Run, run, run!” I yelled to my teammate as we ran on our tippy toes to get to the tents. It was freezing outside, so we bundled up in jackets and blankets as soon as we sat down. I;ve been swimming most of my life, but this was one of my first year round swim meets. I had just swam a 50 free (freestyle) and only had one event lift…..the 500 meter freestyle. I was nervous and I couldn’t eat, so I went to swim on an empty stomach.

It all began at East Ridge high, I was a junior at the time just trying to get by and ready for school to end long before it even started. The strange things began happening randomly, the first occurrence was in my swim class, I had always preferred swimming, the feeling of the water running across my skin and the waves created a rythmic motion that was very calming; I was super pysched they offered it as an alternative to gym class. One day during swim class I was practicing a technique called the butterfly stroke. I started slow and as I got the hang of it my speed built thats when it started to happen, with every stroke of my arms the water came to life and started creating waves that grew larger I hadn't notice until I had reached the wall

A few events passed, then the announcer’s voice broke through the speaker system saying, “Up next is the 100-yard breaststroke heat one.” I was in heat five, so I had time to prepare. I decided I should get prepped and visualize, so I began to make my way up to lane seven. People buzzed all around, moving swiftly on the pool deck. So many thoughts were running through my head. My stomach was fluttering with nervousness. I had trained so hard this past season. I was worried I would not achieve my goals because I had become so sick towards the end of the season. The early morning wake ups and hours upon hours of practice had taken a devastating a

My path with swimming was littered with many triumphs and extremely dramatic failures. The summer of 2014 had been one of the most spectacular defeats for me by losing a championship by 0.01. As I set myself up for the next summer of 2015, I didn’t want to focus on anything except not making a fool of myself in front of hundreds of people.

There was a time I remember being at a friends to swim. We had just put our sunscreen on and did not decide to wait until it had dried to our skin. Within a few hours we all had burns on every inch of our body. For the next few weeks my back was bright red and soon I began to peel. It was like taking paint of a wall when it came of my back. That was a time I realized that reading the instructions can get you a long way away from torment. For a week I had realy bad sunburns on my shoulders and for some odd reason on my legs.

The morning winter sky was painted with an overcast of dark, gray, clouds. The air stung my cheeks with the sharp coldness as I stepped out of the dark gray car and walked away from the pleasant heat that was circulating inside. I waved goodbye to my friend’s mom that gave us the ride, and ] pushed the car door closed. I sighed tiredly began to walk to the new Milpitas High School pool for my swim meet with my best friend, and also crush, Kaleb. We entered the pool deck that smelled strongly of chlorine and was full of frustrated coaches, nervous competitors, and families searching for someplace to sit that was warm. The pool created a big vapor cloud of the warm chlorine water vapor that was battling the cold misty air. It was my first swim meet that was in the 12 year old to 17 year old division and I was the youngest swimmer in all of my heats, or groups. I

Near the end of my final level of Aquatics, my Dad persuaded me into going to a trial for the local swimming club. I remember being nervous, terrified of not being good enough. It was one of the very first times in my life that I was scared of rejection.

I used to never understand why people gave me so much attention. It was always strange. On my swim and track team, I would constantly hear “What was Bryant’s time?” or “How did Bryant do?”. Even during swim practices, people wanted to either swim against or with me. At swim meets my teammates would cheer me on, toes hanging off the side of the pool, almost every race I swam. At track meets a crowd would always anticipate my arrival by the finish line. In school, whenever my hand flies to the air, conversations cease to a halt. Silence fills the air, and everyone is left waiting for my response. I can tell that my peers are waiting in anticipation for my answer. In the classroom, people were curious of my contribution to the discussion. Even

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.