It was hot and humid as I trudge myself to the pool. I thought in my head: another five hours of waiting to swim and hanging out with friends between events. As I walk into the pool campus, my friends rush to meet me. They graciously tell me they are glad I am here. They drag me to read the events, different strokes and heats I will swim. I write the numbers down with a Sharpie marker. Our coach calls and informs us that practice has started. Warm-ups usually last 15 minutes. The warm-ups prepare you for the real competition, so you can warm up your muscles and swim your hardest. After practice, the whole team is gathered for a cheer. The coaches yell: “Fly, Back, Breast, Free! Every lane, every heat! Every practice, every meet! The Aquacats you just can’t beat!” Swimmers repeat enthusiastically. All the roaring and swimming burst into a roar of laughter and applause. Our team is pumped for the game. I see many swimmers with huge smiles on their faces. Then everyone is silent. The national anthem has started. Everyone turns and faces the flag. Once the song has ended, the meet has begun!

I push away my nervous thoughts and start to prepare for the game. As the swimmers of six and under age-groups start, parents scream at the top of their lungs, cheering and supporting their children. The age group continues to progress. As the announcer starts getting closer to my age group, I quickly sprint to my lane and wait for my turn. The anticipation is intense, as the two competing teams’ scores are close. Nervous thoughts return and I feel insecure, not wanting to swim. A thought whispers in my head, giving me confidence, and I know I can do it. As I step onto the block. I hear my friends, parents, and teammates cheering me on, yelling my name. I place my goggles tightly over my head. My coach, kneels, near the diving board, gives me a few quick words of advice: “Don’t forget tight and quick flip turns!” “Take a breath every three strokes!” Announcer yells: “Swimmer’s take your mark.” “GO!” I leap off the diving board, head first, and I feel the cool water oozing between my toes. Water roars in my ears. My mouth fills with the salty and bitter taste of chlorine. Water rushes down my arms and legs. Adrenaline simulates my muscles. My name is shouted: “Holly!” “Holly!” “Go!” As I dive down into the cool water, I can feel it flowing into my arms and legs. I can hear the water roaring as I swim. I swim my heart out. I feel my muscles aching, but I continue swimming. I touch the wall, I remember my coach telling me: “a tight, quick flip turn.” My legs push off the wall. I reach the wall to finish, panting I stand on the pool’s bottom. I stretch my neck to see the timers push the button and turn my head. I see my time. 36.4 seconds. I knew it I beat my time!

My friends and coach come to congratulate me. I smile with pride. My parents are as excited as I am. I wait for the next event: breaststroke. Breaststroke is my favorite style of swimming and I always love to swim it in every meet. So, I line up in the lane and am psyched to swim breaststroke. The thought of it makes me happy. I step onto the board and dive in after I hear the buzzer. I pull hard-glide and pull hard-glide. I reached the other side of the wall and do a quick turn, this time a two-touch hand turn and push off the wall. I continue to pull hard and glide, breathing every stroke. I quickly gather the last of my energy and sprint to the wall. I see my time: 47.8. I beat my time by a millisecond. I thought to myself: I wish I had gotten a better time. The event has passed and I know I have a long journey ahead of me. I start thinking of new ways I can improve each stroke.