College Writing 1
Memoir Draft
11/10/16
Liquid Luck
“Take your mark.” I crouch into diving position. Nervous adrenaline rushes through my
veins. I play every outcome of the race in my head. Every horrible thing that could happen
flashes in my brain. I could slip off the rough block and get a concussion. I could forget how to
swim halfway through the race and a lifeguard would have to jump in to save me. My goggles
could fail me and fill with water effectively blinding me during the race. My dive could
completely backfire with me belly flopping on top of the water below. “Get set.” I block out
every thought rushing through my overactive imagination. I replace the horrible scenarios with
encouraging ones. I will not forget how to swim. I will not belly flop onto the hard surface. I
will not drown in the deep abyss never to be seen again. “GO!” The sharp beeper signaling the
start of the race effectively ends all thoughts. This is it. The moment all my training has been
leading up too. I will not fail.
I’m by no means an Olympic superstar. I’m simply an uncoordinated girl who found a
sport she was decent at. Growing up I was put in every sport known to man: softball, soccer,
basketball, badminton, and tennis (I only played during gym, but I was awful so I’m going to
count it anyway). My brother excelled at every sport he did, so I put this pressure on myself to
live up to his standard. My dad coached my brother, and he wanted to do the same thing with me
as he felt it was a bonding experience. He signed me up for softball, where he was the assistant
coach, and later soccer. Neither sport stuck. The problem with softball was my lack of hand eye
coordination. One second I was watching the softball flying towards my face, and the next thing
I knew I was cowering in fear. I was the weakest link on that team, and I even remember getting
a pity team MVP ball because everyone else had already got one. My dad tried to convince me
otherwise, but I knew the truth. Next up was soccer. And once again I encountered my lack of
athletic abilities. The object of the game was to run after the ball and kick it towards the goal.
Therein lies the problem. My mind knows what I have to do, but my body is physically unable
to produce the movement. The running I was good at, but the actual kicking of the ball is the
problem area. One second I would be running after the ball, and then the next I would either
miss the goal completely or be on the ground after tripping over the ball. My latest failure was
enough to make me give up. That is when I decided to start swimming.
I had been taking swimming lessons ever since I was a little girl. From the moment I first
jumped into the water, I was a fish. My favorite movie growing up was The Little Mermaid, so
whenever I swam I pretended I was Ariel. My imagination is a very vivid place, so even though
