With my Heart, Coach

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just my thoughts/feelings the week leading up to the states' swim meet. Yes, it's very rough, and no, I haven't really edited.... For the swim peeps: I dropped 10 seconds in the 200 IM, and 5 in the 100 breaststroke, claiming12th place in the state....and proud of it ????

Submitted: July 02, 2015

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Submitted: July 02, 2015

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"This week is gonna be hard. It comes from here." Coach points to her chest, sunglass-covered eyes looking at and through every swimmer in the room, beseeching all of us to swim their hearts out.
I'm scared. Like the kind of scared that makes me want to go hide in the bathroom stalls, dripping wet so you can't tell I'm crying. I've hid there before, though I'd never admit it. During some 50frees or some impossible lapping. Hate getting lapped. It means I'm weak, just like hiding in the bathroom. Just like crying or whining.
Anyways. The world keeps turning, and we head downstairs to 'swim our hearts out'. Feels like walking to an execution cuz if I don't die of lactic acid or water-up-the-nose, I'll die of shame and humiliation.
In the water chanting to myself to keep up. Screaming at myself. Just keep going. Don't let her lap you! Don't let her lap you! Soon enough, it is unclear to me whether I'm dreaming this jungle of chlorine, sweat, and soreness (yes, I've dreamed of two-hand touches and tight turns). I make it through practice without running away. Victory. It came from my heart, Coach.

On the long, lonely, cold ride home, I cry. Silent tears steal down my face in the darkness where no one can see how much pain I'm in. No, I'm not in pain. This is not too much work. I can do it. I can do anything.

I am not weak.


I'll do well this week leading up to the race. Speed will keep coming from my heart, Coach. The Water hears me, and carries me to the finish line. Victory; it hurts so good.


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