Personal Narrative-Racism

The beeping is pounding in my ears. My breathing slows so I can get my heart beat down. I almost leap up to the blocks when they call my heat up. I take my mark and hear the loud beep. Then everything went quiet. Swimming is something that I've always loved to do. The anxiety of waiting, the hard work waiting to be shown off, and the goal of dropping time is something I think about before every race and meet. After your race you're either full of joy or full of disappointment. I will never forget dropping over a second at my last state meet and feeling joy overtake me.
BEEP! The heat before me takes off into the frigid water with a splash. I look at my competition. They are older than I am and taller. I stretch out my legs and arms, and do three high jumps, like a do before every race. I make sure my cap is covering my whole head and my goggles pressed tight against my head. My swimsuit is so snug that it is making marks on my skin, but I know in the water it will make me faster. I shed of my towel and flip flops and place one bent leg on the blocks. I bounce my bent leg over and over like I always …show more content…
My body gets tighter when I dive into the frigid water. I streamline and I’m already halfway with one length. I take my first few strokes and burst into a sprint. Already I'm only a few yards to the wall. Taking a quick breath and pulling my head back down. I carry on. I approach the opposite end of the wall I started at, and I flip myself over pushing off hard. Starting back the other way, I take one last breath. My legs are burning and my lungs need more air, but I push through. The finish is nearing. Six yards away. Five yards away. Four yards away. Finally, I am so close to the wall that I slam my hand into it. I look at the wall cautiously and I see that I dropped over one second! I turn around to see my coach smiling so big, and I give him a thumbs up. Finally all the work had paid