Swimming Descriptive Writing

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

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.

The water was an icy shock. It made my muscles tighten as I began my eight lap warm up. Focusing on my arm movements, I struggle to keep up with the others in my lane.

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.

The story of Joe Rantz and how he came to be a collegiate rower is astounding. However the story of the Washington Row team who had to be perfect to be successful in the water. The hardest part about this team sport “is that when any one member of a crew goes into a slump the entire crew goes with him” (Brown). If one of the nine men in the boat were off count and there was no communication the whole run could be effected and could be the difference of a

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

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

Central Idea: Swimming has a long and rich history that dates back way before our generations and is not always as beneficial as we may think.

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

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.