The Breast Stroke

Something I wrote a few weeks ago and didn't post. Felling ok now but just though someone might need to hear this:


I'm not an athlete. I love to watch and play baseball, I swim, but a competitive athlete, I am not.

One summer I was on a swim team. LOVED it, swimming is still a great love of mine. I don't even care how I look in a bathing suit, that's how much I love to swim. My strokes were freestyle and back.

One meet, our team had no one to compete in the breast stroke. So, I don't know why, they put me in to compete. I knew the stroke, but I wasn't at all competition level in it. I did it. Got through one lap and headed down the home stretch. By the time I took the turn, everyone was half a pool length ahead of me. I was so embarrassed, humiliated. I wanted to give up.

Not only was I humiliated, my muscles began to burn. I was in pain. I was weak. I didn't think I could make it. I was in the shallows, I knew I could stand, I wanted to give up. Half way down the pool, and the race was over, well at least for the other swimmers. I was the only one left.

All the while, I was angry. Angry at my coach for making me compete in a stroke I had never worked at. Angry at myself for doing it, and, humiliated. Humiliated because everyone was looking at me. By this time my stroke was sloppy, not that it was anything fancy to begin with. My legs and inner thighs were burning and trembling, it was difficult swimming in a straight line. I even thought about changing things up a bit and just finishing with the freestyle. But I began to look around and there were people shouting for me. As I tried to tune in the crowd I realized, they were cheering for me, ME. They didn't know my name or who I was, but they were encouraging me to finish. Encouraging me to go on and not give up.

It was surreal. But at that point, the anger subsided and the humiliation was being replaced by determination. I don't know how I made it those last few yards, but I pushed and I made it. I had to be helped out of the pool, my legs had no strength. The funny thing is the other swimmers kept coming up to me congratulating me on my race. HA! It wasn't a race...silly people, didn't they realize?

I don't know what made me remember and share this story. Maybe it's because I feel like my life is a swim meet, I'm half way down the pool right now and I've seen the other swimmers finish their race. All I can see ahead is more water, and all I can feel is humiliation, pain, fatigue and even anger *especially* anger. The pain I understand, even the anger. The humiliation, I have no idea where that's coming from. The fatigue....well, I guess I don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out.

At least I know I can look to the sides of my pool and see those around me yelling at me to finish and not to give up. When I get to the end, will you help me out of the water-'cause I'm gonna be messed up!

Oh BTW I failed to mention, the Breaststroke is now one of my strongest and most favorite strokes :)