Personal Narrative: Water Polo

Over the 12-year span of my swimming career, I faithfully trusted my coaches when they told me competitive swimming would take me places. At six-years-old, I dreamed of competing in the Summer Olympics, winning a gold medal, and seeing my face on the cover of a Wheaties box. However, at six-years-old, I never envisioned the mental and physical roller coaster that would define my future in the sport. I would experience numerous mental blocks and physical plateaus; I would sometimes go months and even years without achieving a best time; and I would win very few races, especially for the amount of effort I put into my nine practices each week. In high school, I grew frustrated, I doubted both my coaches and myself, and I contemplated quitting more times than I can count. But I kept swimming, hoping that each stroke and each lap would lead to the success that I sought to achieve. Then in 2014, undoubtedly the most frustrating year of my swimming career, I realized that swimming was so much more than just an extracurricular activity for me. It had become a lifestyle that streamlined me into the person I am today: dedicated, driven, and loyally interdependent.

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.

“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

A year later, I was accepted into varsity. At first, it was nerve-wracking because I didn’t know anyone. I started to work hard every single day because I knew that I had to practice harder than most people. If I don't, the team would be curious on why I was even accepted. On the first week of practice, it was called hell week. At first, I didn't think that it would be anything hard. On the first day of practice, we had to get to the gym at 5 AM until 8 AM and 13 out of 18 people went. We were conditioning the

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

Yet life is strange. Once again, almost expected, I successfully became the tailender in my first track meet. It was a cloudy afternoon, I lied on the central lawn of the asphalt sport ground with my throat full of stifling anxiety and the taste of bitter blood. The soft grasses under me turns into a blanket of pins and needles when I heard other teammates passed by talking about their places in events, and I started to remorse bitterly about why would I humiliate myself one more time with the practical experience, covered my face with my blanket to hide my Buffoonery, till the coach

When I first joined the North Attleboro Swim Team my freshman year of high school, I did not know what to expect. Prior to joining, I had never swam on a team before so it was a whole new experience to me. As the first week of swim started, I was apprehensive if I wanted to continue since I was not on the same caliber as my other teammates were. The practices were brutal but extremely rewarding, as I strived to prove myself and to my coaches. As my freshman season was under way, a couple of upperclassmen took

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.

Our school was never very good at sports and only about five girls would be cut. I was jittery the day that the varsity roster was to be posted; I wanted nothing more than to be part of the team. After classes ended, I walked to the athletic board, where the varsity roster would be posted. I anxiously scanned the list for my name. I scanned it again. As my eyes ran over the page a third time, my heart began to sink. I hadn’t made the team. I was one of five girls who were cut from the varsity team. In a daze, I went to practice. Instead of focusing like I usually did, I went through the motions. The five of us who made up the junior varsity team had a separate practice with the assistant coach. After the sting of failure finally faded, I began to work harder than before. I showed up early to practice and stayed late every day. Every weekend I spent at least two hours on the field practicing. I was determined to make the coaches regret putting me on the “JV” team. As the season ended, I didn’t stop working to become better. Any day that was not too cold, I could be found on the field. When spring came, I joined the soccer team, hoping to improve on my endurance and speed. Over the summer, I spent at least two hours every day running and practicing. When the field hockey season rolled back around, I was ready to show off my skills and make the varsity

It was kind of hard to think about a time that I had failed. It was so difficult for me that I had to ask my dad and with good discretion, he told me about the time I had epically failed in my water polo career.

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

Ever since my childhood, I have many qualities while I wasn’t by any means exceptional in any of those, I always had the self-satisfaction with what I’ve had. I had the grades, the ability to play the piano, using a personal computer, and constructing vehicles using Legos. Possessing all these skills made me feel arrogant, despite me not being exceptional in any of them. However, one skill that I felt embarrassed about, swimming was not in my repertoire of skills that I possessed. In elementary school during our little morning gatherings, we would discuss our weekend plans. Students boasted about how well they performed during the swim meet or how much of an amusing experience they had during their time in the pool. I’ve asserted the idea countless times that swimming was an essential skill, so the idea popped out that I requested my dad to sign me up for swim lessons. With pleasure, he signed me up for a swim course that lasted two weeks in the community center. I had high expectations