Any input at all, any at all! I thank you wholeheartedly and send you a box full of love. :)
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My first time swimming amounted to not much more than being grudgingly placed in a pool and flailing my arms about. Unfortunately, though I sometimes ask myself how this is possible, my dad was some sort of hotshot swimmer back in the day and eager to carry on the family tradition of excellence in the pool. Determined not to fail him, I pushed myself through and learned to swim. Then it was my mom's turn. She said I needed something to do on Fridays, so I agreed to join a free
Junior Lifeguard course at the community pool.
One night, the class had to lift a 20 pound weight from the bottom of the deep end. I did not know how heavy a 20 pound brick was until I hurt my hand trying to pick one up from dry land. But as I waited in line to make my first attempt, I hopped from one foot to the other, more anxious to prove myself than scared. It was just a weight.
But underwater, the weight kept me down, despite how many times I tried to surface. So desperate for air that I started breathing in water, I finally let go and let myself float back up. As I came up gasping for air, the reality of failure set in. Brendan, my tough-as-nails instructor, tore into me, told me I didn't try hard enough, asked what was the hell was wrong with me, and ordered me to try again. Physically tortured and paralyzed with fear but even more afraid of failure, I went back in. This time I came out even more of a wreck, coughing up water, trying to fight through the pain from the water in my head, hair plastered all over my face. As I held onto the ledge for dear life I managed to tremble "I can't do it". Brendan started yelling again. My eyes, red and sore already, felt the burn of hot tears ready to spill over. When I blinked, they fell out bluntly but just blurred everything, trapped inside my goggles. I couldn't even wipe them off. The other instructor told Brendan to stop and asked me if I was okay. I pretended I was, and didn't take off my goggles, hoping they could conceal my crying.
So the next day, I did the only logical thing a 11-year old girl wanting to lift such a weight could do. I ate bananas and skipped rope. I probably wiped out a whole plantation in Bolivia with the amount of yellow things I ate. But while the potassium did help, I think each banana was a reinforcement of my determination. I was steeling myself up, physically and mentally, for next Friday's test.
On the big day, I was psyched, ready to prove to everybody that I could do it. I dove in the pool, getting to the bottom quickly with confident strokes. I picked up the weight and pushed off from the bottom. Like a boomerang, I came back down. I tried going back up a couple of times, but the weight just kept holding me down.
I stayed down there for a while, and all I could hear was the steady rhythm of my own heart beating. At that moment in time, I felt like the only person in the whole world; it was just me, holding that massive weight in my hands. Boom. Why am I here? Boom. I don't have to be here. Boom. I don't want to be here. I looked up at the distorted surface, and put the weight down. I finally surfaced and broke through the water.
I calmly told Brendan that I really could not lift that 20 pound weight, emphasizing how hard I had tried. He tried to force me again but this time I simply took off my goggles and said no. I didn't want to lift that weight anymore. Underwater, my muddled answer to why I was here consisted of a slew of other people's names and terms associated with obligation. I owed my parents a lot, but I owed to it to myself to make my own decisions, set my own goals, and pursue them for my own reasons.
That night was my last at the Junior Lifeguard course. Friday nights became reading nights. But I didn't feel like a failure. Deep inside, I knew I it was the right time to move on. I was moving on to heavier things. So it's interesting that as I walked to the change room that Friday, wiping off the beads of water left on my skin, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
Unfortunately, though I sometimes ask myself how this is possible, my dad was some sort of hotshot swimmer back in the day and eager to carry on the family tradition of excellence in the pool.
How can this be possible, I ask myself. You see, my dad was some sort of hotshot swimmer back in the day. Have I just been left out in the family genetics?
asked what was the hell was wrong with me
don't say hell PLEASE. put what he said in quotes(you can say hell in quotes)
can you edit mine:
My first time swimming, at age _____, amounted to not much more than being grudgingly placed in a pool and flailing my arms about.
Nice job! You are funny and cool...
Wow, this sounds like a traumatic experience...
2 words under water:
But under water, the weight kept me down, despite how many times I tried to surface.
As one word, it is an adjective.
This seems AWESOME but incomplete. Tell us about the heavier things! Maybe these heaier things involve your aptitude in social sciences or human service?
