Retirement

By Michael Hopkins,

For years he had prepared for this moment. The race was about to start. His whole life was dedicated and amounted to this one moment. This would be his last chance. He really didn't want another. He was tired. Ever since he could stand he was training for this race. This one race. He was fully dedicated. He did this every day for years and years. There was nothing left. The referee called them to mount their stands and he did. He put on his goggles and looked down at the water like he had so many times before.

Every thing that he needed to remember went through his head. Don't pay attention to the competition. Don't breath on the first 5th stroke, stretch the stroke, and kick hard. He had been doing this for so long he knew what his weaknesses were. He just had to remember to not drop back from his perfected form. Be aware that what his body naturally wanted to do was wrong and to make it do what was best. “Be sure to hit the wall hard. The pads don't always record the scores right if you don't.” his coach had just told him. “I have to remember that.” he thought to himself.

The pool was foreign to him and they had pads mounted to the walls. They were connected to computers that kept the score. When the swimmer came in and touched the wall, the timer automatically stopped. This was suppose to be more accurate than a official doing it with a stop watch. The idea was to stop the mistakes and scandals. People stopping the time short or late to make sure someone didn't make a time or didn't beat someone in another heat. The problem was that you had to hit the pads pretty hard for them to work. So now it was up to the swimmer to ensure that his time was correct.

He did a few more stretches as he waited for the official to call the mark. He could feel the anxiety build in his heart. He didn't mind though because it just made him swim faster. He had wondered many times if it was actually adrenalin but never actually did anything to find out. He looked at the water again and thought about how many hours he has spent doing laps. Too many to count. Most of his life he had spent 5 or 6 hours a day in a pool. And 2 to 3 after that in the gym. People don't realize that weight training is a huge part of all athletics.

That's why he wanted to retire. It just wasn't worth it anymore. This was his last chance to meet the ultimate goal – he had to do it.

The official called mark and he instinctively grabbed the stand and readied for the shot. It fired and he and the swimmers flew off their marks into the water with a crash. He was brilliant. He was keeping his body in check and swimming faster than ever before. He didn't let this go to his head though. He kept on because he had to not only beat himself but also the competition. This thought made him want to look and see where there were. This would ruin him. You are slowed when you turn your head to see so he maintained and lengthened his stride.

His first turn was beautiful. He landed and jumped off the wall like a torpedo firing from a submarine. He held his breath longer so that he didn't slow on completion of the turn. “Three strokes and breath” he told himself. He did so and soon came in for the second turn. He did so and it was perfect. He could feel the padding on wall and it reminded him that he has to hit it hard when he comes in.

Half way done and he was still feeling strong. He felt like he could up his pace and did so. The last turn was good also but not as good as the first two. He could tell the race was taking its toll and that he was slowing a bit. He remembered all those long hours again, the retirement and his dream. He took a breath and sprinted the rest of the way in. He could see the wall and he wondered where the competition was. He took his last stroke and turned to see where the other swimmers were. He hit the wall and watched the rest of the heat take their last strokes and finish.

He had won his heat by a long way.

Happily he tore off his cap and dropped back underwater to rest, feel the nice cool water on his head, and smile. He came up and looked at the pad. Had he hit it hard enough? He punched it hard for good measure and got out of the pool.

10 minutes later, they published the results of the heat. He and the runner up in the heat stood together at the piece of paper and looked for their names. The runner up looked and saw his name first. “Third place, not bad, though a few 10ths of a second faster and I would have had first.” the swimmer mused. “How did you do?” he looked and found himself at the bottom of the list. He was 10 seconds slower than the swimmer standing next to him. The one he had clearly beat by a second or two. He looked at the swimmer in disbelief, then at the paper again, and then at the swimmer. When it sank in that he had lost, probably because he didn't hit the pad hard enough, he punched the wall. He walked out to his car and for the first time since he was a boy, cried.