by Christine Taylor
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” “Now, get out and start all over again.”
I can’t believe I signed up for this. I just wanted to train, not go to boot camp. I remember when I use to run track. The tap, tap, tap of my running shoes against the latex surface over the asphalt—the wind whistled in my ears as my paper number pinned to my back flapped. Ah, that was the best part—as I passed the proverbial wall; my legs loose, and unheavy, arms pumping like two pistons on a stream engine—I could hear my heart, thump, thump, thump. I cherished that feeling, but now, middle aged how do I keep that loving feeling?
Ok, here I go again, one, two, three, turn my head and breathe. Darn, I lifted my head too high, now I have to re-adjust my body. I just need to glide for a minute. Alright already, even though my ears are totally submerged I can still hear.
“Kick! Kick! Kick!”
Well, when I keep kicking I use more oxygen; more oxygen means going slower—I feel like I want to stop. I can’t stop—I just passed the black line. Wow, the bottom appeared cyaneous. I turned my head and out of corner of my eye I saw white triangle flags. I’m almost there and I hear yelling at a distance.
“Don’t stop, keep going!”
One last final kick with my arm stretched as my whole body is turned on the side.
2 comments:
Nice tie in with the visual prompt. Your use of imagery put me in the pool, bleary-eyed. You did a good job bringing up the way it used to feel to be young and healthy compared to older and exhausted, too.
Definitely puts you in the scene with all the stress this character is suffering.
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