Monday, August 13, 2012

the swimmer.

You glance at the back of your hand, checking the black sharpied numbers there for the hundredth time. There's something reassuring about them - even though you know you're too old to forget your events and you have the numbers memorized anyway. Absentmindedly you swing your right arm around in a full circle or two, then your left, and then both across your chest a few times for good measure. This is nothing new, but still you're just a little antsy.

Then it's time. You glance around to see if any of your friends have already started over, grab your effects, and head for the clerk. You give the finger to your slightly stressed coach so they know that you know what you're doing, and then settle in for that all-to-short-yet-eternal wait on the benches. Your heat begins to fill in around you, you alternate between sitting and standing and stretching, teammates tap you on the shoulder, "cap me?" and through it all the constant hum of the spectators, the buzz of the starter and the splash of the heat in the water keep up an energetic background noise.

You look up from laughing awkwardly with your competitor on one side only to realize that you've finally made it to last bench and that you have just a minute or two before it's your turn. Your hand goes to your head to make sure you've got your cap on, and you snap your goggles out from under your shoulder strap. For a second as you tighten them on your head, you think, "what would happen if they came off?" and then you move on. It doesn't help think that way - even though it does always comes to mind.....

[from my guest post today over at libri - lost in words. to read the rest, click here]

1 comment:

  1. That sounds exactly like me! (Except the "cap me" part. :P)

    -J.A.

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