soul log

I was hunched over a diving block, bending my head back. I could see the blue water and the blue sky. Everything seemed to be blue.

“Take your mark,” a voice somewhere said. I knew precisely it was from the right side of the swimming pool, but now, it seemed like it had been from right behind me.

I hunched even more, and got my foot ready for a kick.

A beep.

A launch.

And then I was in the air.

I’m not the best swimmer around; in fact, I would hardly consider myself advanced. But I swim, and this was the first official meet I had been to.

Before, it had only been swimming practices every single week, and the occasional developmental meet. Those would be within the team. And once, I went to a actual meet before, but just as I stepped onto the block, it started to thunder.

But this time, it was for real. The judges who wore official “Gulf Coast Swimming” shirts were real. My heart threatening to jump out of my throat was real. And the loud beep as the judge pressed the button that would start the timers, and would allow me to jump into the water was definitely real.

The timing system was quite elaborate, actually. When a button was pressed, a loud beep was emitted. The core timing system started, beaming current times to the large scoreboard. Backup timers (actual people) sat on the deck with handheld timers.

When I finished the race, I would hit a timing board on the wall, which would stop the system. If I didn’t hit it hard enough, it wouldn’t register, but the backup timers would make it so that their time was recorded.

But there was no time to think.

My hands hit the water.

The swim went by fast. Before I knew it, I could see the wall. I kicked harder and hit the pad as hard as I could. I could get a faster time if I did; the backup timers had reaction times. The pad didn’t.

And then I was hopping out, I asked my backup planner for the time.

One of three races finished. I was ready.