I can’t breathe. My remaining air leaves my body; bubbles streaming out from my nose. My lungs burn, crying out for me to take a breath. I can’t. I don’t have the time. I am almost done. Just a few more seconds and I will have reached the end.
The water drags at me. I feel heavy. My rapidly moving limbs feel as if they are made of lead. I’m not sure I can hold on. Vision blurred by the movement of the surrounding water, I trust I am not going to run into anything. Not long now, just a few more seconds.
Time slows down. I can hear the screams all around. The shouting is muffled by the water pressing against my ears. It is a dull roar; distant and unreachable. My tired mind can only focus on one thing: I have to reach the end.
I move my arm and the sudden cold of open air strikes it. I notice the way the light ripples along the bottom. The bubbles glitter as the light passes through them. They surround my nose, some floating up by my eyes. The sound of my nose exhaling air is much more prominent than the shouts now.
My arm dips back down into the water. I am almost there. Only a little bit farther. My legs feel like rubber, but they’re still working furiously to support me.
The bubbles stop. I am out of air. I’m getting close now. Just two more seconds and it will be over. I am running off adrenaline.
I move my other arm and the world shrinks to what I can see of the bottom. I am waiting desperately for the line to appear. Any moment now. I become aware of the water gliding across my back. It is a welcome feeling.
And there it is. The line. I have made it. With one last burst of energy, I propel myself forward. Having just extended my arm out to its fullest reach, I flick my legs and dive a little deeper below the water. My outstretched hand slams against the pad. I’ve done it. It’s over.
My lungs are burning. My heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest. Another wave of adrenaline rushes through my body. I can’t help but wonder if I was successful.
Everything around me is blurred as my head breaks the surface and water slides off my cap and down my face. I take in a huge lung full of air. My chest is pounding. I crane my neck to look upward. I have to see it. The bright lights shining against a black background spell out a list of names. I search for mine.
Shock rocks my body. I can’t believe it. Next to my name is a little number one. My fist breaks through the water before I know it. Water is splashing everywhere; hitting my head and chest. A smile breaks out of my face. I have finished first. I have won the race.
Check out a similar poem by Sabiscuit’s Catalog. Her poem Swim has great imagery and gives a great insight to the end of a race.
I loved the entire story. This part was beautiful: “My fist breaks through the water before I know it. Water is splashing everywhere; hitting my head and chest. A smile breaks out of my face. I have finished first. I have won the race.” It reminds me of a poem I published recently. Just exactly the image I had in mind of getting to the end. I love watching swimming competitions because of this sense that you have to keep going until you get to the finish line. There is no stopping dead in the water. My heroine had someone waiting for her. I hope yours does, too. x
Thank you so much! When I was a competitive swimmer, I always found the last few seconds were always the hardest and the most invigorating. I’m glad your heroine has someone waiting for her. Mine does too. 🙂
That is a beautiful outcome for your heroine. I’m still in wishful thinking zone but one hopes. I’ll link your essay to my poem so that if anyone comes later to look, they’ll visit yours. It’s thrilling. Gorgeous work. x
Thank you so much! I’ll return the favor:) thank you for coming and looking