Persistence In The Pool Lily B
I straighten my legs and push off of the diving block, extending my arms as my body submerges in water. I kick my legs: staying underwater as long as possible, trying to maintain maximum speed. I break the surface of the water, forcing myself to do two strokes of butterfly before I take my first breath. I am starting the first of eight laps in my race. This race, the 200 IM, consists of swimming two laps of each stroke. My arms swing forward as I get into the butterfly routine. Arms down, arms over, arms down, arms over, arms down, arms over. My coach's voice comes rushing back to me, reminding me to breathe every other stroke. I soar through the water, swimming to the beat of my heart. I need to work hard to keep up with the other girls competing against me. Butterfly is not my best stroke. Thinking about everyone else on my team, I push even harder. They are counting on me to win, gaining points for our team that could help us take the lead. Before I know it, I am starting the third lap of the race and transitioning into backstroke. This is, by far, my least favorite stroke. Still, I must try hard because these two laps are the main moments when I could get far behind my competitors. This is difficult, though, because I had put a lot of my energy into butterfly, using mostly my arms to pull myself through the water. I am starting breaststroke now, and my legs feel like lead weights attached to my body. Taking my first breath, I pick my head up and quickly glance around to see where my competitors are. I am in fifth place! There is only one girl behind me, but I notice she is catching up. I force myself to focus on breaststroke, my favorite and best stroke out of the four strokes. I know that picking my head up will only slow me down. Making sure I glide after every breath, I center my attention on the mechanics of the breaststroke, staying focused and undistracted. I make sure to keep my face parallel to the water, letting my nose skim against the surface of the water, using the least amount of time to breathe. Keeping my elbows in, I bring my legs up, ready to snap them back, becoming straight as a pencil. At the same time, my hands shoot forward, and I tuck my head down, becoming as flat as a board. I continue this pattern repeatedly until I reach the end of the pool. I fling my legs up and my toes are touching the pool wall. I twist my body sideways, and for a slight second, I hear the crowd roaring, ecstatic fans screaming. Not knowing whether it is my imagination or not, I think I can faintly
hear my teammates chanting my name. I ignore it and fling my right arm over my head, pushing off of the wall, gliding through the water. Soon, I reach another wall of the pool again. As I start the turn that lets me transition between breaststroke and freestyle, I pick my head up once again, searching the pool for whereabouts of my competitors. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I think that I am almost a full lap behind the other girls. Then I notice that they are still doing breaststroke, while I have moved onto freestyle. I'm in first place! I exclaim to myself. And by a full lap too! Adrenaline surges through my body as I urge myself to swim faster, if it's even possible, in order to keep the lead. I kick my legs as fast as I can, propelling myself through the water, swimming the first lap of freestyle. Seeing the wall of the pool comes as a surprise, as I have been keeping my head down, trying not to get distracted by those around me. Starting the flip turn leading into the last lap, I see bubbles swirling around me, filling my view. As they clear away, I briskly glance left and right, searching for any signs of nearby swimmers. I am startled when I see an older-looking girl, speeding along, trying to catch up to me. Reacting immediately, I push off the wall, sprinting, hoping that the girl will not catch up to me. The adrenaline is pumping through my body, and I need every last bit of energy I can muster. The realization of how tired I am suddenly hits me like a brick wall. The 200 IM is a hard and long race, and I have never swum it before. I might not win my last race, all because of a few mistakes. I register that all of those times I looked around, cost me a few seconds in the race. I might really need those seconds, I think, as the girl tries to catch up to me. Those mistakes might ve cost me the race. I was finally pulling ahead during the two breaststroke laps, after swimming my two worst strokes, butterfly and backstroke, but that hard work might not put me to the top. I kick my legs, willing every bone in my body to work harder, refusing to let that girl pass me. Bubbles swirl around me, blocking my view of the approaching girl. Not knowing whether or not I still have the lead urges me to move faster, pulling my arms down, shoving the water out of the way. Suddenly the wall comes into sight and my hand slams onto its hard surface. Immediately I look up, my heart sinking as I see the girl has already finished. Did I lose? I wonder dejectedly. I see my friends waving and smiling at me. Why are they cheering for me? I lost. My friend, Kate, gets my attention and points to the scoreboard. Unwillingly, I look up, noticing that there are only two times on the big screen,
projecting to everybody in the room that I lost. Then I focus in on the times, wanting to know how many tenths of a second I lost by. I inhale sharply, suddenly realizing why everyone is cheering for me. I won! My time was actually almost a full second ahead of my competitor. I rip off my goggles and hold them above my head, celebrating my win. My heart was pumping fast and my muscles were aching, but the sight of my friends coming to congratulate me as I start climbing out of the pool helps ease my pain. I am being swarmed by friends, patting me on the back and congratulating me. Even though I made a few mistakes, my persistence in the pool let me pull ahead and win a crucial race for my team.