December 31, 2009
By Anonymous

Count to five, breathe.
Count to five, breathe.
The air rushes into my burning lungs
Like a much needed drink on a hot day,
But a moment later is gone,
And I’m waiting for the next breath.
The water sweeps over my body like smooth silk,
And my hand plunges into the deep blue all around me.
I can briefly hear people screaming,
But can’t make out the words.
All I can think about is the finish.
I have to swim quicker, pull harder, kick faster.
I’ve come to the last turn,
The finish is in sight!
Count to five, breathe,
Don’t lose the rhythm.
Count to five, breathe.
That breath is my fleeting chance
To see where my opponents are,
And where I am in the race.
I have to move faster.
I’m so close,
But so is she.
Where has this extra energy come from?
Pull harder, kick faster, breathe,
Don’t lose the rhythm.
Now I’m so close,
I have to hold my breath;
And here it is:
The finish!
I come up, my body’s spent,
And there she is,
Standing right next to me.
Who won?
I look around,
And I see my team yelling.
I’ve won!
and I’m smiling,
sure that the excitement will sink in even more in a minute
But right now I’m tired,
And still the words are surfacing in my mind:
Count to five, breathe.
Count to five, breathe…

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