(no subject)
I forgot about livejournal completely until the other day, when I was about to type in "www.facebook.com" and instead found my fingers typing livejournal. It was strange. Anyway, hello! This is most recent:
As I watch the heat before mine finish their competition I stretch my arms over my head and kick out my legs to warm up the muscles. I watch the girls as they painstakingly pull themselves from the water and flop like caught fish onto the deck. I jump three, four times to raise my heart rate as I watch the looks on their faces rise and fall with the news of their times. The whistle blows twice; I hear "This is event number six: 100 yard butterfly, heat two." The whistle blows once, I step onto the block. My heart races as I fumble for my goggles and push them onto my eyes with shaking hands. They are foggy and blur the image before me, making the lane lines fuzzy and my teammates at the other end of the pool a haze of green, gold and blue. I press my cap to my head and crack my knuckles out of nervous habit - "ladies, take your mark." I lean forward, muscles tense, eyes on my ankles, fingertips brushing the edge of the block, hardly breathing. The buzzer goes off and I inhale shortly as my body springs off the block and slices through the water, praying my splash was small and my dive shallow. And then it begins.
I tuck my chin to my chest, depriving my body of the breath it so ardently desires. My shoulders break the surface as my arms stretch to their fullest and swing forward to claw at the water in front of me. As my hands hit the water I pull my head and chest down to bring my hips up against their will. My feet follow suit and the cycle begins. Shoulders, hips, feet, shoulders, hips, feet, like always shoulders, hips, feet. Touch, turn, push, glide, kick shoulders hips feet as my lungs beg for air and my arms for a break. Every muscle within me screams at me to stop, pleads with me to let them rest. I start to consent, my pace slows and I'm snapped back to reality by a closely pursuing competitor and a fast-approaching wall. Fifty yards left and I'm already growing weary? I take out the frustration cause by my weakness on the water. I beat it until I can no longer feel my arms or see my competition. They are all left behind me as I touch turn kick off the wall and sprint towards the wall; I sprint towards air, towards water, towards ice, towards my time...and I'm pushed harder. I have no more breath yet I will not allow my head to raise to take another, my arms are dead but I force them to clear the surface, if only by an inch. Every muscle burns, my lungs cry out for mercy and I'm there. My fingers jammed and nails bloody from their unexpected collision with the wall, I slowly painfully drag myself from the water and sit on the deck, shaking, breathing with difficulty, using every ounce of strength left to keep from blacking out. "...Time?" I ask feebly, dreading the answer, the numbers looming over my head like a dark shadow I can't shake. The timer responds and I lay back on the deck, the cool tiles a slight shock, and smile. All this pain for one second.
As I watch the heat before mine finish their competition I stretch my arms over my head and kick out my legs to warm up the muscles. I watch the girls as they painstakingly pull themselves from the water and flop like caught fish onto the deck. I jump three, four times to raise my heart rate as I watch the looks on their faces rise and fall with the news of their times. The whistle blows twice; I hear "This is event number six: 100 yard butterfly, heat two." The whistle blows once, I step onto the block. My heart races as I fumble for my goggles and push them onto my eyes with shaking hands. They are foggy and blur the image before me, making the lane lines fuzzy and my teammates at the other end of the pool a haze of green, gold and blue. I press my cap to my head and crack my knuckles out of nervous habit - "ladies, take your mark." I lean forward, muscles tense, eyes on my ankles, fingertips brushing the edge of the block, hardly breathing. The buzzer goes off and I inhale shortly as my body springs off the block and slices through the water, praying my splash was small and my dive shallow. And then it begins.
I tuck my chin to my chest, depriving my body of the breath it so ardently desires. My shoulders break the surface as my arms stretch to their fullest and swing forward to claw at the water in front of me. As my hands hit the water I pull my head and chest down to bring my hips up against their will. My feet follow suit and the cycle begins. Shoulders, hips, feet, shoulders, hips, feet, like always shoulders, hips, feet. Touch, turn, push, glide, kick shoulders hips feet as my lungs beg for air and my arms for a break. Every muscle within me screams at me to stop, pleads with me to let them rest. I start to consent, my pace slows and I'm snapped back to reality by a closely pursuing competitor and a fast-approaching wall. Fifty yards left and I'm already growing weary? I take out the frustration cause by my weakness on the water. I beat it until I can no longer feel my arms or see my competition. They are all left behind me as I touch turn kick off the wall and sprint towards the wall; I sprint towards air, towards water, towards ice, towards my time...and I'm pushed harder. I have no more breath yet I will not allow my head to raise to take another, my arms are dead but I force them to clear the surface, if only by an inch. Every muscle burns, my lungs cry out for mercy and I'm there. My fingers jammed and nails bloody from their unexpected collision with the wall, I slowly painfully drag myself from the water and sit on the deck, shaking, breathing with difficulty, using every ounce of strength left to keep from blacking out. "...Time?" I ask feebly, dreading the answer, the numbers looming over my head like a dark shadow I can't shake. The timer responds and I lay back on the deck, the cool tiles a slight shock, and smile. All this pain for one second.