Personal Narrative Essay About Swimming

At the early age of 9, I began swimming as a way of exercise. While I did this initially to meet new friends and have fun, I continued to swim because I not just enjoyed the feeling of water, but also the opportunity that came with it.
Going to practice was a choice. Each and every practice was a chance to get better, as my coach would say, or rather scream, “improve everyday” until it stuck with me. The never-ending drills and laps (enough to go around the earth a couple of times) became the life I wanted.
I remember every morning at the pool at around 6’o clock just staring down at the calm, mesmerizing, blue waves gently rolling into the lane lines as they slowly swayed in an almost unison motion. I remember being lost in a trace and listening

Every leap off the race blocks drew me closer and closer to the finishing wall. A race for a faster time or even just a race against myself. The older I got, the time standards became challenging. Eventually, the difference between a few seconds became the difference between a few milliseconds.
With every practice and every race, I began to lose the opportunity I once had as a child. I began to stress waking early to go to morning practice. And after every practice, I began to come home sore and famished. With months passing by, I became restless and disappointed at my times. Sometimes, when the once buoyant drag me underwater, I find myself giving in to the overwhelming circumstances.
“Learn from your mistakes and move on”. This little conversation I had with my coach made me realize that the opportunity was still out there. Maybe I needed to go along with the current instead of fighting against it? I came to recognize perhaps the greatest fear isn’t drowning, but rather the fear of