" SWIM."

By Will Karn

"Hop in," A phrase that I commonly heard, and frequently ignored. Every day after school for as long as I could remember I would stand both feet on the deck staring into the icy tomb, which lay before of me. "Will, hop in or your all doing a 500 fly." barked my coach, I wouldn't have minded swimming a 500 fly for a few extra seconds on land, but I knew everyone would get mad at me if I made them swim a "Kill Set." So I took a deep breath counted to three, and got a running start, thinking, the closer I got the less I want to be there, but I got to the edge of the deck and jumped, just like every day. It was loud outside all I could hear was the coach's screaming, and parents nagging, I felt I was floating in the air for an eternity. I finally hit the water, whoosh silence, I remembered why I loved swimming, it so peaceful you enter your own little world, I took each practice a self therapy session, all you can do is think, every day 4:00 till 7:00 swimming up and down back and forth, soothing monotony.

After my warm up ended coach gathered everyone around and gave the announcements. "We have our big swim meet this Saturday the one we have all been training for, against our rivals the Alameda Alligators, blah blah blah…" I stop listening and start messing around with the gutter like I usually do, trying to see if I can splash away all the dry spots. After he finished his pep talk we all went back to our perspective swim sets, we were divided according to our swim styles, skills, and how much a coach liked you. I was in a lane with all the older kids I was one of the more experienced swimmers in my age group. Although I was only at practice, for some reason I would still always try and race the person next to me, I guess its competitive nature. I could care less about how our team did at a meet, that wasn't my concern, but from an early age I always wanted to win. I would race people that didn't know I was racing them. I would just swim faster and faster, that’s what got me through the first half of practice. I would then completely ignore the rest of practice, and the idea of working out. I would cruise through the rest of the sets, just thinking about my day, I'd think about everything; soccer, food, school, girls anything but swimming. Occasionally I would let out a scream in the water a good way to vent my frustrations. I can yell as loud as I want and no one knows.

I had come to a realization a few months back that I hated swim team. I didn't like going every day for three hours, in the cold pool, with coaches droning on and on about how you can improve your stroke by bring your elbow up a centimeter to the left, or gliding a half second longer, just to get that extra millisecond.

I don’t care about any of that.

All I ever wanted to do was swim and have a good time. The most fun I have during practice is in the shower I'll stand in those showers for hours, I'd hit a kid with a kick board or do a back flip in the water just to get sent to those marvelous showers. I had one that was mine and only mine second to last on the left side I would turn the rusty nozzle towards the H and let the warm water pour over my head and down my body slowly turning my body temperature back to normal. The goose bumps slowly started disappearing, and the over all feeling that I was done with swimming that day would hit me. The satisfaction of getting through another day of icy hell.

I walked outside warm and ready to go home but seeing that my coach was talking to my dad about what I had done that day, and what I could do better. So I went over to the big wall on the side of the building, and I played slaughterhouse with the other kids waiting for their parents to come pick them up. I got along with most of the kids at practice. I didn't have a real problem with any individuals there was just one major characteristic that I don’t share with the other kids: they enjoy swim team.

I could see in the distance the conversation was starting to wrap up. My dad shook hands with my coach, and he slowly started heading my way. Knowing exactly what he was going to say to me, I grabbed my gear, murmured a weak "good bye" to my teammates, and I prepared myself for a long ride home.

I couldn't find our beat down red Nissan, I looked around but with my chlorine filled eyes I could hardly tell the difference between my car and the brick wall it was parked next to. I shuffled over to the car, mentally preparing myself for the conversation that I have had many times before.

"Will, coach told me that you have been messing around lately. You need to make the most of this time, swim team is important. The most important meet is coming up, so you need to stop with the shenanigans and start focusing."

And as always my response, "Yes dad, I'm sorry."

Then nothing was said, he just stared straight ahead, with both hands on the wheel, and a look of disappointment glued on his face. I would rather my dad yell, and scream, and curse at me for a week straight then give me this look that was all too familiar.

We sat silently for the rest of the trip, nothing but the faint sound of the talk radio station my dad was listening on the way over to the pool. My whole life I never liked silence, there is always something worth talking about. But not on theses days, So I would think of the days where I would go to my swim lessons at the Y. getting changed into my power rangers, or batman swim trunks, splashing around in the warm water, having coaches that didn't yell at me, at least not all the time. Occasionally we would get in trouble for jumping in when we weren’t supposed to or running on deck, but those were rules for our own safety. For the most part we couldn't wait for swim lessons, and they always went by so fast and before you knew it you were getting pried out of the pool, just wishing you could have a few more minutes of free time. Before I knew it I had completed all the levels at the Y from the guppies to the sharks, I had passed every level, head of the class. That’s why I had such high hopes for swim team I thought it was going to be like the good old days.

We pulled into the driveway; I hopped out and stumble through the front door still in a daze from the deadly combination of too much chlorine, three hours of practice, and forgetting my goggles once again. I flop onto my bed and contemplate quitting because I don’t know how much longer I can put up with it all, but then my dads disappointed face pops into my head. And suddenly all my plans for quitting were gone.

"Dinners ready."

My mom exclaims from the kitchen. Food was just what I needed, something to get my mind off swimming. As we all sat at the kitchen table indulging in the delicious, succulent, golden piece of lemon chicken, I am completely distracted from my problems. Absorbed in this meal, I thought of nothing but the piece of chicken that lay before me. Then my mom asks, "How was practice?"

A simple question, nothing that I haven’t heard a thousand times before.

"Fine," I murmur.

And my mind goes back into overdrive thinking about every aspect of swimming. Damn mom. Why did you have to ask?

It was the day of the big race; I would be lying if I said that I was not excited. I woke up, and stumbled into the shower, believing that it would wash the grogginess away. After my shower I quickly got changed, grabbed my swim bag, and my parka and rushed out the door.

Sitting in the car on the way to the meet I felt pretty mellow. I was listening to dark side of the moon on my walkman, jamming out to money, when my dad starts talking, there's no one else in the car so I figured that I should probably pay attention.

"Its a big day Will, do you think you got enough sleep? I heard you watching South Park late last night. You're going to need all your energy if you're going to win all your races."

We pulled in to the parking lot, and I hopped out and rushed in to the pool only to see my relay team already warming up.

"You're late." Barked my coach,

I ran into the locker room, changed as fast as I could then dived in the pool hoping I could swim at least a 50 before the race started. My team was pumped they were all rehearsing the corny, cheesy pep talks that they had been perfecting of for years. In the middle of all this coach grabbed my attention and pulled me to the side.

"Your going to be the anchor in the final relay, George just got his appendix taken out so we need you to step up and come through for the team." My coach decides to give the single most important event to the one kid who has shown that they don’t want to swim.

"Ok." I put on a fake smile and go back to the huddle.

We were called to the blocks,

"Swimmers step up"

"Swimmers take your mark"

"BEEP."

Watching the kid's swim was kind of amazing, all the different styles of stroke that we practiced, all the different breathing techniques mean nothing in this race. All the kids are doing flailing their bodies to move as fast as they possibly can. There is no time for thought. The third man just went I'm next; coach is in my ear, filling it with nonsense and over used clichés, trying to turn this moment into a bad sports movie. I step on the block look to my left, a kid from alameda, I'm not surprised were basically tied with them right now. They get closer and closer, the crowd gets louder and louder. I'm ready. They touch, and whoosh silence for just a split second then I'm off, swimming as hard as I possibly cant the guy is right next to me I don’t seem to be gaining any kind of distance, we hit the flip turn, I look over and he's still with me. This is going to be an all out sprint, who wants it more him or me?

Him

He touches the wall a split second before me. I shake his had, and hop out. My coach was angry you could see it in his eyes. My dad looked at me with a kind of forced half smile, as if to say you did your best. Then I proclaim.

" I quit."

I ran to the showers and prepared myself for a long ride home.