The Swim Competition Essay

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.

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.

I heard the announcer on his microphone call you for ages 14 to 15 reps in 45 minutes I went down to the water to see what I really got myself into and surprisingly it was not too cold but it definitely woke me up. 20 minutes I heard him call out but then people started grouting around the water 10 minutes he started the race in knee-deep water the countdown has begun 5958 57 my heart beaded faster and faster my knees were shaking people were cheering 10 98 I put my hate hands out ready to dive 4321 and I went went reaching my arms as far as they can get kicking my feet with power. When I turn my head to breathe you could hear people's cheering and screaming around that the Bewley I went falling behind a kid as I was reading the sand I pulled myself as hard as I could to the beach and ran to the transition station my body Felt like rapper I was so cold as it was changing my shoes as best as I could grab some water and I was off rating my bike out on the road my mom screaming is all I heard passing my family with

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.

My fingers fly. Adrenaline surges through my veins. My movements are jerky. The elephantine orchestra lumbers behind me. My fingers get snarled. I stumble. Heat swarms my face. Suddenly, I am plunged into an icy river, into another memory—I am practicing; sweat trickles down my back in rivulets, and there is dried blood underneath my stubbed nails.

A practiced dive lets me cut through the water easily for a couple seconds I am gliding and listening to NSYNC (thanks to the new underwater speakers). The water will soon crash in my ears and I will actually have to use my body and brain to keep moving. The water distends before I break the surface with my arm and pointed hand. I finish the two-hundred free warm-up quickly alongside my friend and soon after taking a long drink of water, she puts all her weight on my

Focusing on the course that lay ahead, chills slithered down my back. The shot of the reverberating gun fired and I charged with my heart pounding like the sound of a drum. With my arms pumping and legs moving vigorously onto the course, I was the average runner in battle with my mind. My teammates leaped and hopped with excitement as I bolted; I pictured my body gracefully drifting through the air while the world stood silent. The last grueling hundred meters, I thrusted my body to the end of the finish line while the other runners stood in utter awe of my amateur performance, I flailed to the ground. Staring up at the sky, as I sat breathless and fatigued, engulfed in deep thought. I could feel the wind in my face and the dirt in my mouth. I was swept away by the calm before the storm, the exhilaration, the immense amount of heart each individual had, but mostly the passion for running.

Vegetation covers the sides of the river, swaying to the music of the wind. Butterflies dance to the orchestra of the insects, and even the rocky formations glint in a mischievous way as the sun kisses its’ surface. I can feel the refreshing coolness of the limpid rapids lap at my ankles, as my board hits the rough currents. As I wobble unsteadily on my feet, I try to regain my balance as I tighten my calf muscles and my core. With my weight forward, muscles tensed, and knees bent, I successfully dodge the rest of the rapids and drive my board forward towards laminar waters. As I bend a curve, I slide my paddle along the side of my board and glide effortlessly along the water. A sigh of content leaves my lips, and pure satisfaction takes ahold of me once

I wake up barely dawn, when the early morning is still unpleasantly chilly and most of my peers are comfortably cuddled in their blankets. I, on the other hand, will dive into the pool. My weary limbs urging me to go back to bed, but my ambitious heart encouraging me to move forward. I keep going, training, and racing for the next two and a half hour; everyday, until my arms are too tired to lift my aching body out of the pool. Some days were easy. I had motivation and full of energy. Others, were much more difficult and I had to improvise, adapt, and overcome.

Beads of sweat slip silently off my skin. I feel my heart steadily thumping, a soft hum, and my stomach clenched in unforgiving knots. Every muscle, tendon and ligament quivers in the stillness of anticipation. Finally, the thundering base of the gunshot sounds, and my body bursts off the starting line. Long strides cut through the air, bouncing off the balls of my feet. My arms pump to keep pace, adrenaline rushing throughout the race.

I could feel my lungs burning in my chest as oxygen entered only to be forced back out. I push myself to continue moving my arms, pushing the water behind me so I could propel myself forward. At that moment, many things floated around my conscience. It was so intense that I felt like giving up everything I had worked so hard for: the 10-hour online-training, the initial interview, the prior physical training, and the self-determination to achieve my goals. These thoughts were embedded in my mind as I took a side breath, struggling to continue my freestyle stroke.

They yank you forward. You try to scream, only to stumbled face-first into the now terrifyingly violent waves. The chain-like water snaps onto your wrists. You struggle, but it holds no hope.

This paper begins with my own existing knowledge of swimming, followed by questions that I wanted to find out in my research that were answered in my paper. It then gets into my research and what I found out while conducting my senior paper. After that is

It was a cold October day. The closer I came to the fogged up windows, the faster my heart would beat making my breath quicken. I step into the locker room to prepare for the pool. As soon as I step out the humidity hit me. I’ve been scoping out the competition for a few hours now and they are good. I say to my friend” I sure hope that I don’t have to race against them” . Then my name gets called and what do you know I have to go against a state winner and 6 more excellent swimmers. Suddenly my number gets called.”Swimmer's step up!”.My heart racing. Adrenalin pumping. Me trying to calm down so I can actually go. “ Swimmers ready?”...The whistle blows.