Our Own Worlds

My legs and my arms felt like they were going to fall off, they were so tired.
I feebly lifted my arms out of the water, then they collapsed back in. If my swim teacher was here right now, I knew I was in for the worst scolding of my life. I lifted my head as I got ready for the headbutt and saw how beautifully the swimmer in front was lifting her arms up and apparently effortlessly gliding along in a trail of frothing bubbles.

She must be superhuman, I decide.

As we start on the backstroke, I lag behind. I know I was always last, just this time, more so. By the time I reach the end of the two laps, the first people are already going for the next set of laps. I get ready to go, too, but I am stopped by the swim coach. I knew this was going to happen. Someone was bound to notice. 

"Take a rest when you need to." he says, then adds, "Are you sure you want to do the swim meet on the fourth?" 

I know there is only one answer to this question. When I got into the swim team, even after being last all the time in the tryouts, I knew that I was sticking with it, no matter how hard it was. This was not a time to give up. No matter how hard it was, I had to keep doing it. I wasn't a coward, wasn't afraid of what other people said. I was going to this, for better or worse. 

"Yes," I say, hopefully determinedly.

"OK then... so what are your strengths?" He quizzes me, trying to determine my level in swimming. Then the first swimmers start to return, and he walks away. I look up at my mother, sitting on the bleachers. That short rest has rested me as little as I can get, and I am not as bone tired to tackle the freestyle lap. 

The swim team has really taught me a lot, about myself, about how to tackle problems, about the world. When I first came back from the tryouts, I was shocked out of my wits. For years I had maintained a vision about myself that I was a good swimmer, that I was gifted. I was with people two years my senior in my swim class, and I considered myself talented in swimming. 

That was the first time I had ever swam with people my age who were much, much better than me. In my swim classes in school, everyone had been mostly average, and any doubts I had had I swept away with a broom of thoughts like 'This is not my full potential'. I had come to the swim tryouts full of confidence, full of confidence that I would leave everyone else in the bubbles. 

Now, I was the one in that position.

At the tryouts, we had started with the freestyle, and I had emerged from the water shaken. I had been last, with a time of 00:51. I knew it was the best that I could do, perhaps the best I had ever done, but most had cruised through the water with times like 00:36 to 00:40. I knew I was out of my class. 

When I came out and was greeted by my mother, my first words were, "I was terrible."

My mother had agreed, but said one thing I will never ever forget:

"We all live in our own worlds; if some of those girls had met the ones from the Chinese schools...."

She urged me not to give up, not to lose hope. I didn't. 

And I won't start now.

I'll be there at the swim meet on the fourth.