The end of the day comes whether you have gotten up to do something productive or if you have simply remained inanimate while time moves around you. I have found that the present slips away while you are worrying about the future. We are constantly telling ourselves that if we just get through this, then everything after will be better. We forget to appreciate the moment while constantly reaching for a hypothetically more fulfilling life. Once we graduate high school, or get through a challenging class, or finish a workout, everything after will get easier. It is a cycle that never ends. My junior year of high school was one of my most challenging years. Reflecting on my junior year, I have realized that an exciting portion of my life slipped
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I believe leaving your comfort zone is the path to finding yourself. Junior year I decided to try swimming, a sport I had never attempted. The first practice was spent trying not to drown. The second was spent learning how to breathe. It was during the third practice that I began to realize just how hard this season was going to be. I developed a bad attitude about swim in general. I hated smelling like chlorine. I hated having dry skin. I hated getting up at five o'clock in the morning three times a week. I dreaded that feeling in my stomach before meets. I began to spend more time worrying about my performance than actually trying to improve it. Before I knew it, I had slipped into a hole of swim season depression. I counted the days until it was over. Despite my best efforts to avoid the butterfly stroke, my coach really seemed to think I had a natural talent for it. Naturally, the team’s butterflyer quit and I was chosen to replace her in the one hundred yard butterfly: arguably one of the most hated races in the swim world. The reputation that preceded the race brought with it a feeling of dread. I made myself sick with worry every meet. As the season approached its end, instead of being excited about performing at sectionals, I was excited about sectionals being over. My legs shook as I stood on the block. My heart pounded and I felt sick. The buzzer beeped and the race began. Physically, the race
I believe leaving your comfort zone is the path to finding yourself. Junior year I decided to try swimming, a sport I had never attempted. The first practice was spent trying not to drown. The second was spent learning how to breathe. It was during the third practice that I began to realize just how hard this season was going to be. I developed a bad attitude about swim in general. I hated smelling like chlorine. I hated having dry skin. I hated getting up at five o'clock in the morning three times a week. I dreaded that feeling in my stomach before meets. I began to spend more time worrying about my performance than actually trying to improve it. Before I knew it, I had slipped into a hole of swim season depression. I counted the days until it was over. Despite my best efforts to avoid the butterfly stroke, my coach really seemed to think I had a natural talent for it. Naturally, the team’s butterflyer quit and I was chosen to replace her in the one hundred yard butterfly: arguably one of the most hated races in the swim world. The reputation that preceded the race brought with it a feeling of dread. I made myself sick with worry every meet. As the season approached its end, instead of being excited about performing at sectionals, I was excited about sectionals being over. My legs shook as I stood on the block. My heart pounded and I felt sick. The buzzer beeped and the race began. Physically, the race