Personal Narrative: The Ywca's Pool

Improved Essays
The smell of chlorine on my skin is a scent I don't even realize any more. I let out a deep yawn as I slowly tie up my hair into my specific bun. I then in a one fluid motion I latch my cap on my bun and pull it over my head. The next step is my goggles, I place them on my eyes and let the tint change my surroundings.
I jump into the cool, but some how thick water of the YWCA’s pool. I focus on my goal for the hour of swimming that now I am facing, 190 laps or just under 3 miles. The hour starts off strong as I remember to hold my breath and kick, but as time moves along I start to slow and my mind starts to wonder. I have to remind myself why I have chosen to get up at 5 on a saturday to swim. I swim for Oz or the memory of him. Today, it's

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