Leaping downward through the air, I immerse myself in the element of laughs and cries. Gliding through its opulent depths, feeling one with the universe. That is the place, my special place that keeps me calm and collected, it is a competition swimming pool. The pool encompasses many physical features that cause anxiety and mental repercussions. Which are all facets as to why I find the swimming pool to be “my place”.
All aspects of the pool become apart of me when I consider the pool to be “my place”. The black line that all swimmers despise staring at for hours makes me feel whole and complete. The black line beckons me to reach the end of the wall promptly. Even when my arms and legs become weary it is the black line that motivates me to finish diligently. I deem the black line as my own as it drags me to completion. The starting block being the biggest factor in “my place” entices me to begin my dive and start swimming. With the white, grainy coating that enables me to grasp the block punctures my toes. When up on the block I consider it to be my throne, so everyone and everything surrounding me disappears for a split second. All that is left is the block and myself. The deceiving water, and the eternal wait for the buzzer to beep only adds on to the warming anxiety. Every aspect of my coach adds a feeling of comfort that also comes with uneasy nerves. She is the reason the swimming pool is my place.
Much less, the mental training that goes into competition swimming develops a unified feeling between yourself and the pool, which makes you feel as if you’re apart of something bigger than just the life you are living. I believe the pool to be “my place” because in my mind I suppose I am the only one living, it is just the pool and me. The overwhelming consumption of and miasma most likely affects my mental state of mind creating that train of thought. The unbearable cramps and soreness make the hard work noticeable and the sweat and tears put forth cause a connecting feeling between the pool and me. I am coaxed by the cool and crisp water that generates a faster heart beat. Oxygen becomes less and less important to me and in “my place” I forget to breathe. Breathing begins to be not so much of an instinct and more of an option. Considering a place to be yours summons a substantially closer relationship with yourself that later on builds character. The mental connection I have with the swimming pool and myself has built vital character resulting in a life of only living, breathing, and dying a swimmer.
In the same way, the different yet specific strokes affix as to why I consider the swimming pool to be my own. Before entering the water I notice the tranquility of the pool.