The Race

I am alone at the foot of the blocks. I inhale deeply and the familiar scent of chlorine drifts up to my nostrils. I look down at my arms, my legs; the tools of my trade poised at the ready for the task laid before them. All I hear is the slow thud of my heart beat, all I see is the icy depths of the pool. I whip back to reality. There are hundreds of people gathered around me like I’m some sort of unsuspecting celebrity, and as I slowly wrap my mind around what’s happening, I realize I am, for now at least. It is the last relay of the biggest swim meet of my life, my team’s victory balances on a fraying cord, and my performance will dictate which team conquers which in the bitter rivalry that is potent in the sweltering summer night air. As I shake off my entourage of eager teammates, my wary eyes lock on the scene playing out in the water. It’s one I’ve seen before, one in which the ending can be one of pure jubilance, or utter despair. The swimmers are neck and neck, and I am last to swim. As my opponent and I step up, we glance confidently at each other, a sort of silent challenge. The second my fingertips plunge into the blue abyss, I am no longer human. My limbs fly towards the finish as if they have a mind of their own, not waiting for my own brain to catch up. At the turn, I sneak a glance at my temporary arch enemy. Though we are polar opposites, we are perfectly matched, uncannily similar in our speed and agility. I refocus to my own race, just me and the water. As long as it’s just me and the water, I will succeed. No age old rivalry, no expecting fans, no menacing enemies, just me and the water. My hands rip through the waves, harsh yet gentle in some strange juxtaposition that could only exist in water. My body moves gracefully and smoothly, like a prima ballerina, but it’s only a façade my fingertips create as they turn each drop of water they touch into bubbly works of art. Underneath the calm, my straining muscles churn the waves to froth in a frantic, desperate race to the end. I am exhilarated to touch first, terrified to touch second. The adrenaline pulses through my body, taking control as the water becomes suddenly treacherous. I seem to move in slow motion as the last few strokes I have to take now seem impossible. The pool has become a raging sea thirsting to toss me to the depths, but if only I can reach the wall that now seems so far away. And without notice, I crash into something hard, something I hadn’t expected yet. It was over, a tidal wave of strength had brought me in to the wall and I slowly lifted my shaking head to meet my fate. My teammates are exuberant, passionately rejoicing. That must mean something good, but again, I do not hear them, because I am alone in the water. I am alone and the tumultuous waves have ceased to the serenity that is my home. We won the race together, just me and the water, and we are alone, and there is no place I’d rather be, than alone in the water.