Swimming

The sun beat down on my shoulders as I stepped closer to the safety of the shady tent. This is one of the times that I wish I tanned, not burned. One of the many times. Sigh. I was lined up to swim in the 12 and under link relay for my team, Crestmoor. We were at another club, Monaco, which can get blisteringly hot. Seriously. So here's how a link relay works. It's all freestyle, and involves all age groups . The youngest people, the 8 and under group swim a 25, which is 25 meters or one length of the pool. The 9-10 age group swims a 50, so twice that. We swim a 100, the 13-14s swim a 200, and the Upper-D swims a 400. There are two representatives from each age group, one boy and one girl. So the other thing about the link relay is that no one really takes it seriously. It kind of has a tendency to show up at fun or family meets and that's about it. Except for this meet. Huh. But it's really fun, and like any relay, you feel pressure to not disappoint the other people on your team, as well as yourself. I wrap my arms around my body and shiver, starting to get cold in the shade and step out into the sun again. It's a no win situation, I guess. Our first person, 8 year old Sarah-Jane, steps up on the block, and the familiar rush of adrenaline sweeps through me. Her tiny arms churn the water, and we end up in about 2nd or 3rd place. The next person goes, and then the next person, and then the second 9-10, and it's my turn. I I jog in place a little, trying to get rid of any last minutes nerves I might have, pull my goggles over my face, aiming to catch up a little, maybe even pull out of fourth into third. I focus, and then dive off the block as my brother swims in and touches the wall.
The water hits my face. I try to push myself a little on the first lap, because I can just hear my coaches slightly annoying voice in my mind. "Long and Strong!" Sigh. I flip, and try to hold my speed into the second lap. I see the faces of my team at that wall, who look actually quite bored, except for my sort-of-friend Izzy, who is cheering for me. I flip again ( I hate flip turns) and just figure I'll go really fast. I mean, it's like my last lap, except for the one after that. That's what I always tell myself. I just really can't explain my mind. I sprint to the wall, take a deep breath ( but not inside the flags) flip ( I hate flip turns) and pour all the energy I have left into the last lap. I hit the wall, Henry dives over me, and I bring my head up. First.
So, I love winning. I love winning for myself, for anybody, but there is no better feeling than having two tiny eight year olds running towards you and telling you how great you were and how we're now going to win.