We're a little different. No, we definitely aren't normal. If you're a swimmer, you know this. If you're not, but you know a swimmer, then you would have at least guessed this. What we live for? It's simple. Swimming. What we breathe? Water. What we think in? Seconds. Our minds don't work the way others do, and we know this. Because we are painfully reminded of this every day.
We live in two different worlds. In the water, and outside of the water. At the poolside with our teammates, and at school with our friends. And these worlds will never meet.
We wake up in the darkness of the morning, earlier than the sun even dares to open its eyes, peaking through the blackness, shedding a glimpse of light on the sleeping world. We walk out the door whilst others are still dreaming, our minds not even functioning correctly yet, our only goal, the pool. All we know is that we have to get to practice. And fast.
School is pure torture. "Oh my god, I am SO tired, I had to wake up at 6 for basketball practice," filling the air, we've all heard those words. Words that fills us with a deep rage, a rage we cannot express in our tiredness. "I HAD TO WAKE UP AT 4!" We want to scream. But we can't. Too tired. "Shut up," we try to moan, but all that comes out is an awkward grunt.
The weekends are the worst. Competition time. Sleeping in? Never. Get up, get to the pool, warm up, and sit around all day in your cold, damp clothes, every now and then getting yourself to the start blocks and swimming through a race, a race so painful, so tiring, no human being could ever withstand this torture. But we win, we get a PB, a personal best, or we beat that one swimmer in the lane next to us. Magic. Pure magic and happiness, and no words in the world could describe that feeling. We celebrate, we are happy, this is amazing.
And then it's all over. We go back to school. We greet our friends, arms still tired and burning, but we are still excited. "I got a PB!" we tell them. "A peanut butter sandwich?" They look at us, confused. "No, no," we laugh nervously, our mood to good to be pulled down. "A personal best! I finally improved my time!" But all they do is stare at us. Those looks, the "why should I care" written clearly in their eyes, the "who gives" on the tip of their tongues. "Great..." they say, and smile weirdly. And then they walk away. They go to celebrate the school soccer team who won their match over the weekend. They go to congratulate the volleyball on their second place in their tournament. They go to take care of more important things.
And they leave us standing in the cold. Fill us with disappointment over what we were so excited about only seconds earlier. Worthless. A single word creeps into our bones, and drowns us of all our happiness. They're right, we think, it's just a PB. Just a gold medal. Just swimming.
We live in two different worlds. In the water, and outside of the water. At the poolside with our teammates, and at school with our friends. And these worlds will never meet.
We wake up in the darkness of the morning, earlier than the sun even dares to open its eyes, peaking through the blackness, shedding a glimpse of light on the sleeping world. We walk out the door whilst others are still dreaming, our minds not even functioning correctly yet, our only goal, the pool. All we know is that we have to get to practice. And fast.
School is pure torture. "Oh my god, I am SO tired, I had to wake up at 6 for basketball practice," filling the air, we've all heard those words. Words that fills us with a deep rage, a rage we cannot express in our tiredness. "I HAD TO WAKE UP AT 4!" We want to scream. But we can't. Too tired. "Shut up," we try to moan, but all that comes out is an awkward grunt.
The weekends are the worst. Competition time. Sleeping in? Never. Get up, get to the pool, warm up, and sit around all day in your cold, damp clothes, every now and then getting yourself to the start blocks and swimming through a race, a race so painful, so tiring, no human being could ever withstand this torture. But we win, we get a PB, a personal best, or we beat that one swimmer in the lane next to us. Magic. Pure magic and happiness, and no words in the world could describe that feeling. We celebrate, we are happy, this is amazing.
And then it's all over. We go back to school. We greet our friends, arms still tired and burning, but we are still excited. "I got a PB!" we tell them. "A peanut butter sandwich?" They look at us, confused. "No, no," we laugh nervously, our mood to good to be pulled down. "A personal best! I finally improved my time!" But all they do is stare at us. Those looks, the "why should I care" written clearly in their eyes, the "who gives" on the tip of their tongues. "Great..." they say, and smile weirdly. And then they walk away. They go to celebrate the school soccer team who won their match over the weekend. They go to congratulate the volleyball on their second place in their tournament. They go to take care of more important things.
And they leave us standing in the cold. Fill us with disappointment over what we were so excited about only seconds earlier. Worthless. A single word creeps into our bones, and drowns us of all our happiness. They're right, we think, it's just a PB. Just a gold medal. Just swimming.
But they don't know any better. And so when our eyes are filled with hurt they say "whats wrong?" Maybe they're worried. Maybe they want to help. But they will never understand how our minds work. So we whisper to them, we say "you wouldn't understand... forget it." We don't try to explain. It would be useless. We swallow it down, take the hits they don't know they're throwing at us, and we smile. Because we have to be strong. We're swimmers. We can take anything.
But of course we can't. We can't take anything, some day, we will break. Simply crack under all the pressure. We might not seem like it, but we still are human. And we need their help. We need our friends, our parents, our teachers, even, to understand. It's as simple as that. We need them to see our wonderful world, just once. And we need help.
SwimmersIt's tough. Trust me, I know. I am one of you. Sacrifice. A huge word for us. It carries a completely different meaning to us than it does to others. We have given up so much, sacrificed everything, for the one thing we love. Swimming. And sometimes, it doesn't all go as planned. Your PBs don't get faster, an injury keeps you out of the water, or the stress is just simply too much. And all we need is a little motivation. And a little help.
I've put together a few things that have helped me. Just click on that little button.
|
Non-SwimmersParents, friends, anyone, you've seen it. You've seen the stress nagging on your swimmer, eating bit after bit of their life up. You know you shouldn't be, but you're mad at them, "why can't you get your homework done?", "oh come on, it's just swimming, you never come to my parties." You want to understand. You want to help. You want to do something. You know the water has long claimed us, but you want your friend/child back. We distance ourselves, for protection. All it takes is for you to understand.
I've prepared a little preview of our world for you. Take look. Try to understand. That little button up there is all it takes.
|