Sink or swim
“Yeah, I can swim.”
That’s what I said to my lifeguard training instructor, Luke, when he asked 12 shivering teenagers huddled around an edge of a pool early that first morning. The other 11 agreed. When I signed up for this training, I knew it would be hard. I hadn’t taken a swim lesson since I was little, but I still loved swimming. I had a pool at my house I swam in all the time! So, when Luke told us we’d be starting off the day with a 300-yard swim, I wasn’t that nervous. Three-hundred yards couldn’t be that bad, could it? It was only six laps. I could definitely do six laps.
Since there were 12 of us, and only six swim lanes, we paired up to count for each other. The girl I was paired with offered to go first, and she squealed as she slipped into the calm, blue water. I didn’t want to, but I dipped my feet in. It was freezing, even in early June. The first six started swimming. The girl I counted for swam one lap, two laps, three laps.
“You’re doing great!” I yelled to her. “You’re halfway done!”
The look on her face was my first clue this was a little harder than I’d thought. “Halfway through! That’s it?” She got out of the pool, almost in tears. Wrapping her beach towel around her shoulders, she sat down on a lawn chair. I’d only met her that morning, but she was so nice, and I was heartbroken for her.
I’d been slowly submerging my legs inch by inch to adjust to the chilly water until I was standing on my tippy toes; now it was all or nothing. I ducked my head under and bit my tongue to keep from yelling. The water was that cold. With a deep breath, I ducked under again and pushed off the wall for the start of my first lap. We were only allowed to do the front crawl or breast stroke, and had to do at least one lap of each. I started out with the front crawl, but, by my second lap, I was exhausted and getting discouraged. I switched to the breast stroke and struggled through the next lap.
I wasn’t about to give up. I’d gotten halfway through the swim; there was no way I was stopping! I sped up a little, wanting to be done, but my arms, stomach and legs ached like they’d never been used before. I hit the wall at the end of my fourth lap, completely out of breath, but somehow found the strength to turn and keep going. I was the slowest swimmer by far – everyone else was already done, even though I had a head start – but I was just counting the laps I had left. Two laps, I kept thinking. Two laps. I hit the wall again and turned. One lap! I was so close to being done I could taste it, and it wasn’t just the chlorine. I went back to the front crawl, pulling the water past me faster.
Just like that, I hit the wall one last time.
I climbed out and collapsed on the concrete, trying to catch my breath. That was the hardest I worked for something in a long time, and it wasn’t over yet. I was so proud of myself, I thought I’d burst out of my skin. I floated through the rest of the day a few inches off of the ground, intensely happy I had done so well, if not as easily as I thought. But then maybe that’s why I was so happy; it wouldn’t have been as satisfying if it were easy.
Nothing ever is.
Julia Vilenica is a senior at Jefferson-Morgan High School.