The Race

"Heet four, behind your blocks, please!" screamed a voice over the loudspeaker at the Manoa Recreation Center pool. The adrenaline rushed through my thirteen-year-old body as I played with the stray hairs sticking out of the back of my swim cap. I was nervous. I hated the two hundred meter freestyle, but my coach had entered me in it anyway. I quickly looked to my left and right and size up my competition: I saw some of them stretching, a couple talking to friends behind them, and the girl to my left looking down and shaking her legs to loosen the muscles. After looking at them, I felt better. I was seated as the fastest girl in the heet, and I felt confident that I could beat them.
The whistle tooted in quick birsts, signalling to the swimmers to prepare themselves. I quickly put my goggles over my eyes and took a deep breath. This is it, I told myself. The whistle again blasted from the official. I stepped up onto the block and carefully placed my right foot at the front edge. I rested my hands on my thighs, and tried to spych myself up: You can do this. You're better than they are. This will be over soon. I took another deep breath and concentrated on the official's voice. "Take you mark..." A short pause gave us time to poise ourselves for the start, and then, "BEEP!"
I pushed off the block with my hands and feet and dive into the water. The rush of cold water flowing past my body jolted my senses and I focus my attention on my body. Because it was a two hundred meter swim, I set a pace for the first hundred so I didn't burn myself out before the final hundred. As I made my way down the fifty-meter-long pool, I slowly began to pull ahead of my competition. I made the first turn and focused my attention on my body position in the water: left arm up, right hand in front, pull down with the right, spear the water by my head with the left and stretch it straight forward. I kept my kick quick, but I did not go as fast as I could because I knew I was winning.
As I came out of the second turn, which marked the halfway point, I noticed that the girl to my left was too close for comfort. She was practically level with me, and we were swimming stroke for stroke down the pool. This was dangerous, because I had not been paying attention to her before, so I did not know how hard she had been working, so I could not gauge how tired she was. I tried to speed up to get away from her, but she started to go faster, too.
The worst thing I could have done was panic. Panicking is a distraction and prevents swimmers from concentrating on their swimming. Instead of panicking, I focused my attention entirely on this girl to my left. My heart was beating quickly, not only because I was tired from swimming for so long at such a fast pace, but also because I was afraid I was going to lose. I felt that because I was seated first, I had to come in first. I wanted to beat this girl to prove that I was faster than everyone else in my heet. My competitive nature took over, and a new determination to win swept over me.
After the final turn, I started to go faster. The girl next to me started to fall behind a little more, but she quickly saw that I was pulling away and sprinted after me. As we made our way down the pool, she began to catch up to me. With only about twenty meters to go, the girl to my left had caught all the way up to me, and we were neck and neck. I began to sprint as fast as I could go, speeding up my tempo and pulling as much water as I could with each stroke. But I could not pull away from her. I wondered to myself, how had she caught up to me so easily? I could feel the pressure now. I needed to beat her. I was frustrated that I wasn't able to zoom by her like I had with the other girls. I used my frustration to propel me forward, a new motivator to go faster.
With only ten yards to go, I shifted my attention from myself onto the other girl. I saw that we were very close. This race was too close to call. I used all the energy I had left to sprint the rest of the way to the wall, kicking as fast as I could, and pulling with all my might. My heart was racing now; I heard it pounding away like a drum in my ears. The wall was finally within reach, and I put all of my velocity into one stroke to hit that wall first. When I felt my palm hit the solid metal of the gutter, I quickly looked up. I didn't breath, I didn't look at the girl next to me, I looked at the electronic board that showed the place and lane of the swimmers coming in. I looked anxiously at the board, and read, with a sigh of relief and happiness, that I had won. I looked at the girl to my left and she turned her head from the board to look at me. As the other girls were coming in, we smiled at each other in recognition of one another, and shook hands in congratulations.
I will never forget the emotions and feelings that I felt during that race. The competitiveness I exhibited that day showed me that I am a very competitive person. It also proved to my coaches and my friends that I was a force to be reckoned with, and I had heart. I put everything into that race to outtouch that girl, and my efforts payed off. I proved to myself that day that I could accomplish difficult tasks when I put my mind to them. I never forgot that day, and I never will, because remembering that moment gives me confidence to do things I never would have tried before. I look back on that moment and remember the fear, the dread, the anxiety, the confidence, the pressure, the competition, and the feeling of accomplishment, and I think to myself: it is all worth it.