Don't Stop Gotta Keep Going | Teen Ink

Don't Stop Gotta Keep Going

June 16, 2016
By erfirst BRONZE, Madison, New Jersey
erfirst BRONZE, Madison, New Jersey
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

This is going to be easy, I thought to myself, breathing heavy. This is going to be easy. I kept repeating the phrase, breathing in for ten seconds then out for five. In. Out. In. Out. Needing to keep my heartbeat steady, I thought to myself,  Why am I already telling myself this? I thought, we’re not even there yet and I’m already sweating. We were driving to a private school somewhere not too far away from where we lived. Well not too far. It was like 45 minutes away. The three of us were all going to do our first triathlon. It was called the Hightstown Triathlon. Connor and Andrew’s dad was driving me and my dad, Connor, Andrew and their little sister, Rebecca, to the school where it was going to take place. We had all been mostly silent the entire ride because we were all nervous.


Excited to do my first triathlon, I thought about how I always looked up to my mom who ran at least one marathon a year. I wanted to be like her, running races with friends and having lots of fun. It almost made me jealous. I tried not to think about it and closed my eyes.


“Ok everyone! We’re here!” Connor’s dad called out. I opened my eyes to notice everyone getting out of the car. and shaking, I got out of the car and saw the humongous school whose shadow covered the entire parking lot. Actually, not really. The shadow probably wasn’t even facing the parking lot. Anyways, the building was held up by pillars that made the entire school look like a government building or something. We stared in astonishment because we had always gone to a smaller, public school.


“Woah!” I gasped almost speechless. “This school is huge!”


“I heard it was an all girls school,” said Connor’s dad. The expression on our face was like  when you’re watching one of those home makeover shows and you see the before and after, and before it barely had walls and after it looks like something a celebrity would live in. We were astonished.


“After you sign the forms, park your bikes over there with your shoes, shirts, towels and socks and put your number on your bike,” a woman at a desk near the entrance said. “Then go wait by the stage.” We went to the stage where everyone was standing around and music was playing. The music was all pop songs from the radio and the bass was so loud that the entire stage shook.


To a crowd filled with excited kids, a man came out and explained how it was going to work. “Okay kids! Who's ready to race?” he asked into a microphone. He was answered by loud cheering and hooting from the crowd of children. He continued, “First is going to be swimming, you can do whatever stroke you like and you are going to swim to swim across the 3 lanes in the lap pool which is roughly 75 meters.” Taking in everything the man said, Connor and I looked at each other. I was a weaker swimmer than he was. We both knew it. So, we nodded and looked back at the man.


“Next is biking. There is paint marking the route around the campus so nobody gets lost. There will be guides biking along the course. If you forget where you are going, follow them.”


Sounds easy, I thought to myself, I bike longer all the time.


“Finally the running is going to be from where you the bike parking, to the track, around the track once, then back to the outside of the school. Everyone understand?” he finished. Everyone yelled in acknowledgment.


“OK. We are going to line you all up outside the pool and when we call your name you walk in. DO NOT RUN BY THE POOL, then start swimming. You will be lined up by age. Youngest to oldest.” 


I gulped. Youngest to oldest meant I was going to be one of the last ones. I was always the last one. September 21 2002 was my birthday and already at school I was the oldest kid in the entire third grade. They sent us in and had chaperones sort us and just as I expected

 

I was tenth from last in the line.


My mind was racing. I thought about the triathlon itself, the school having a pool, what my family was thinking. I took my mind off it by looking at the trophy collection, jailed behind a glass pane in shelves. Lax Champions 2010, Swim Team Champions 2011 read some of the trophies.


In my rushed panic, I suddenly heard, “First, Ethan!” over the loudspeakers. I dashed into the pool room. A man asked me for my number then told me to go. SPASH! I jumped in the pool. I swam across the pool as fast as I could. For the first lap I started with freestyle stroke. Then for my second  I used backstroke, which is probably my best stroke down the lane. I looked franticly as I noticed kids doing butterfly stroke and breaststroke and all these strokes I didn’t know. Did it make them faster? I asked in my head, nervous about what would happen next. I continued with backstroke for the last lane which I finished faster than the first two.


Jumping out of the pool and running down the lane made of cones, I ran to my bike putting my shirt, socks and shoes on, then rubbing myself with a Star Wars the Clone Wars towel, and rode for two miles.


“This is going to be easy,” I said to myself, this time aloud. It ended up not being as easy as I thought. The entire ride I felt my still wet body start to dry and chill up in the wind. Cold and shivering, I pushed on, trying not to let it get to me. Every once in awhile, a car would fly by causing the shivering to be more severe. When I arrived back where I got my bike I let out the kickstand and started the mile.


When the mile started, I felt my body starting to shut down in exhaustion. My legs started to feel like solid sticks, my knees were almost impossible to bend. I panted quickly as I started to pump my arms and run. The mixture of sweat and chlorine filled water on my body continued to give me chills as I ran. When I finally reached the finished line, I was sweating like crazy. At least I think it was sweat. It could have been pool water that hadn’t dried yet... or something.


I felt like a war hero. Like I had just done something amazing. Happy music was playing in my head. You know, like the kind they play towards the end of a kids’ movie that's a really cheesy pop song that was made only to fit the moment of the movie. It felt amazing.


My dad came up and congratulated me.


“You did it!” he said, attempting to hug me but when he saw I was soaked in whatever that was, so he backed off.

“How do you feel?”


“Tired,” I coughed out. My throat felt like it was on fire, and I was trying to catch my breath. It made it almost impossible to speak.


Afterwards, the same man stepped up on a podium and gave a speech about history of the triathlon and announced the winners of each age group. To my surprise, I was number two in my age group. They walked me up to the stage and put a medal on me. As I walked down everyone started cheering. Afterwards, Connor’s family and my family went to have lunch together, laughing about certain parts of each other’s stories.


I ended up leaving the number they had put on my bike until I ended up selling it. Every time I went to ride my bike, I would remember the day I ran my first triathlon. Every time I rode bikes with my friends, they would ask, and I would tell. And in my head I always said to myself, it was easy, it was easy.


The author's comments:

I decided to write about this story because as I went through the idealist, I saw a moment you are proud of and I immediately thought of this moment. I have always been proud of doing the triathlon and me and Connor were talking about it the day before. One of the biggest challenges I faced was getting it all into the page limit. I was able to pull this off by taking out small parts I didn’t need. Another thing that was a problem was my memory. I couldn’t remember a couple little things like the name of the school. I went on the website for the tri and went to see if it was there but it was not. I think this was because the Triathlon itself was in early September and it was only April, but I don’t think it was much of a problem in the final product.
Originally, I felt like I couldn’t get my memoir into shape. My first few drafts were a little all over the place, and I missed a session about fixing it. After meeting with other people and having them fix it with me, it became better. People told me about how it was good and bad in ways I couldn’t see on my own. I took away many great lessons from writing this and now know new ways to perfect my writing for the future. I also learned how to help other people in a constructive way with their writing. Overall, it was a great learning experience for me and will give me life lessons I can use for the rest of my life.


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