Racing
I am feeling brave and posting a little piece of writing I recently did. The assignment was to write a short piece about a vivid/important/intense physical experience. This is the first thing that came to mind for me.
My lungs are
burning. My throat is burning. My muscles are burning. I am racing.
Every second
breath, I lift my head out of the water and I hear the people on the grandstands. It is a loud cacophony of shouting voices and
then my head slips under again and the sound of the crowds is dulled. I hear
the sound of movement, the sound of my body powering through the water. Then my head lifts again and I hear the mixed
sounds of shouting and of my rasping, gasping for air. So it goes in a rhythm to my butterfly
movement; shouting sound, body-moving sound, shouting sound, body moving sound.
I reach the
end of the third length and my muscles are starting to tire, but my mind is in
control, calculating the distance, egging my body on and encouraging it
passionately yet gently. It too is
racing with so much whirling through it.
It is aware of everything; my burning throat loudly gasping for breath,
my muscles on fire, the pace of my movement, the clear instructions from my
coach every step of the way, the splash from my competitors and how far away
they are, the strength of my kick, the power of my arms as I fling them
forwards gracefully, the pull of my arms under my body propelling me forward,
and my pulsating heart. It has it all
under control, working with it all, calculating it all, embracing it all,
finding a place for it all and holding it all.
It won’t let up. It knows it will
get there, it knows it wants to win and it will, it knows the time it wants to
finish in and it knows just how to finish with power. It is like an animal with a killer instinct
that has taken over the body.
My hands
come smashing into the wall. It’s
done. I look to both sides of me and see
the girl in the lane next to me touch. I
have won. I do not know my time yet
because my eyes cannot read the time on the electronic board, so I ask the time
keeper. The girl next to me, my long
time rival, congratulates me. I can
sense she is not pleased, that she is not genuine and that she has resigned to
her place in this race. She has power
over me out of the water; with her words, with her looks, with her mocking,
with her friends. But here, now, in the water,
it is my turf and my strong, powerful body and the killer instinct of my mind
that is stronger. And for now, for just this
moment, I am okay. I am strong. I am more-than. I am big.
