Reflection Paper On My Goals In Swimming

When I was five years old, I joined the Carroll Aquatic Swim Team. I stuck with it because I loved being underwater, feeling the refreshing water all over and the sensation of touching the wall, finishing first hearing the people holler. When I got older I just didn’t have much care for it. So, I decided that I wanted to give up. Then, my mom told me that I should finish the season than I could determine, nevertheless, I did as I was told. At my last meet, my mom signed me up to swim the IM which is when you swim all four strokes. I was convinced that I couldn’t do it because I had never done it before. I told my mom that I couldn’t and I would fail, but my friend convinced me that I should do it. She told me that I would only disappoint people if I gave up; consequently, I swam and received first place. In conclusion, I ended up feeling the same exciting feeling as when I was five.

One of my most cherished thoughts is that all goals are in grasp if you can work hard enought and long enought you can achieve them. I also believe with dedication any person can reach what they dreamed about.

Ever since I was little I have aspired to be something great in life, a chef, a pro. soccer player, and an artist. I still hold on to those dreams in hopes they will come true. All of these dreams shape who I am today. I play soccer for “Charlotte Soccer Academy” and previously for the “Waddell Soccer Team”. Both have kept me being a team player and a stronger leader. I go to visual arts camp over the summer and try to use creativity at any moment possible. I love making cupcakes and baking which also allow me to be creative. I have finally realized that all of these dreams originated from my family. I pursued soccer, like my parents did throughout their lives. I continue drawing, like my mother and father did until it became their life and jobs. I am still love making cakes and cupcakes every weekend, just like how i've seen my grandmother make them. Life has a very strange and mind-boggling way of turning out. I know that sounds cheesy, but it is really true.

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.

For example, when my grandmother was young, she used to dream about being surrounded by a loving family. She was an orphan. She often tells me stories about how she would lie awake at night dreaming about just that. Many kids in her orphanage used to tell her that none of them were ever going to have a life like that “Why would we?” they said, “can you not see not even our parents wanted us!” Despite all the harsh words, she kept on dreaming and overcame all her obstacles and has reached her goal. Even though your goals might seem impossible, if you dream big you might get just that.

We’re all familiar with 'setting goals'. About who you want to be; who you want to be with. We've all lusted after something, or someone. We've all hoped for something, aspired

“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.

Having a goal and a dream are both the same and that is how goals shape us in

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 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

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.

My future goals have changed over time. In seventh grade I had a goal of becoming a great soccer player. That changed the following school year when I finally hit a big growth spurt. When the growth spurt happened, it started it aggravate the extra growth bone in my foot. When we found out that I had an extra growth bone in my foot, I wasn’t allowed to do much because of the pain it was causing me at the time. I made a choice not to do soccer because you kick the ball with your foot all the time so I thought what else could I do to keep in shape. I was like wait I should play football I would be great at that so I start telling my dad and he turned his head and gave a little chuckle then turned back and said the kids that play football are

     "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.

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

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