This is a story from my friends website about her. She is blind and wont
give up.
It was my freshman year in high school. I was on my high school's swim
team. This event taught me a valuable lesson that has stayed with me to this
day.
Here's the story.
There is one swim meet that I will never forget, for it taught me a valuable
lesson. I was signed up for only one event in this particular meet - the 300
meter freestyle. Swimming twelve lengths of the pool could be quite tiring,
but this was the event I had always done my best in. My hope was that, by
saving all of my energy for that one event, I might get a first place.
Up until that point, I had never won a first place in any of the meets. I
had accumulated several points from winning several second and third places,
but I had never won a first place. A first place win would give me some much
needed points that would put me closer to earning the "letter."
At our school, the athletic letter was "L" for Robert E. Lee High School. I
could see myself earning this letter and wearing it sewn onto an athletic
jacket like the other athletes at our school did. I knew how proud that
would make me feel.
When Coach Wright showed us the letter that we could earn for swimming, I
decided right then and there that I had to have one. However, going into
this particular meet, I was still several points short of earning it. I knew
a first place would almost guarantee my chances of reaching this goal.
I walked up to my starting block and looked around. I saw one girl on each
side of me but I couldn't see beyond that. I asked a teammate how many I
would be swimming against.
"Three," she said.
Okay, I thought. I only have to beat three girls to get my first place. You
can do this, Nancy, I told myself.
We stepped up on our starting blocks. The gun went off and we hit the water.
Pace yourself, I reminded myself. Twelve lengths is a long way to go.
When swimming a long distance like the 300 meter, it's easy to lose track of
how many lengths you have finished. For that reason, there is someone from
each team posted at the end of the pool. Her job is to yell at the swimmer
as she makes her turn to let her know how many lengths she has completed.
When making that turn, most swimmers used the flip turn. They do a
somersault a couple of feet from the end of the pool and then kick off the
side, sending them into the next lap. I could never use the flip turn
because I couldn't see the side of the pool until I came right upon it. By
then, it was too late to do the somersault.
I had no choice but to use the "beginners" turn. As soon as my hand touched
the side of the pool, I would turn as quickly as I could, being careful not
to let my feet touch the bottom or I would be disqualified. This is where I
always lost time, but I had been working on making my turns faster.
Now I was swimming along, thinking about that first place that I so very
much wanted to come from this event when something unsettling caught my
attention. The girl in the lane on my left was now passing me going in the
opposite direction. What did this mean? Was she one length behind me or
ahead of me? I wasn't sure but I kept swimming.
"Five," I heard my teammate yell at me as I made my turn. Seven more to go.
No problem. I'm feeling strong.
But wait! Now both of the girls in the lanes next to me were passing me
going in the opposite direction. Again, I wondered, "Were they behind me or
ahead of me?" All I could think about was that first place. Please let them
be a length behind me.
"Seven," was now being shouted at me.
Great! I'm more than halfway there. Chocolate, don't fail me now. I finished
length #7 and then, to my horror, as I made my turn, I saw the girl in the
lane on my right was standing up. This was not what I wanted to see. This
meant she was already finished and the best I could hope for now was second
place. I was extremely disappointed but I kept swimming.
"Nine. Keep going," was shouted at me.
Thanks. I needed that. Oh, well, second place isn't so bad.
I started swimming harder. Only three more lengths to go. I can do this.
When I turned to start length #10, another discouraging sight was waiting
for me. The girl in the lane to my left was now standing up also. As I kept
moving, I wondered if I would ever know what it was like to win a first
place. Now my only hope was for getting a third place.
I might even get fourth, last place. What was that other girl two lanes down
doing? Was she still swimming or was she also finished? Was I the only one
still swimming? Were the people in the stands laughing at me for being so
slow? All of these horrible thoughts raced through my
mind as I kept swimming.
"ELEVEN." The number I had longed to hear was now being shouted at me by a
very enthusiastic teammate.
What a sport, I thought.
Well, this is it - the last length. My arms were so tired. They felt like I
had a ton of bricks hanging from them but I didn't want the spectators to
know how tired I was. If I am coming in last place, I thought, I'm at least
going to make a good showing.
I called upon every ounce of strength I had left and, with all the speed and
power I could muster up, I made the final few strokes to the finish. I felt
my hand touch the side of the pool and I immediately stood up. I looked
around the pool hoping to see the girl two lanes down still swimming.
OH, NO! My worst nightmare had come true. Not only had the other three girls
finished, they were out of the pool and drying off. I was the only one still
in the pool.
One of my first thoughts was of how embarrassing it was going to be to have
to climb out of the pool in front of all those spectators after they had
just witnessed my crushing defeat.
Do you remember when you were fourteen years old and were more concerned
with wanting to avoid embarrassment than with anything else? I just wanted
to sink under the water and stay there until the meet was over and everyone
had gone home.
I can hold my breath for two hours, I thought. Sure I can.
But then, three of my teammates rushed over to me. Why in the world were
they so happy? Didn't they know I got last place?
"Nancy," they shouted. "You got first place!"
What? They're crazy, I thought. I looked around the pool again. Everything
was blurry but the water was so still, I was certain I was the only one
still in the pool.
"Nancy," they continued, "the other three girls dropped out. They quit.
You're the only one who finished the race!"
"You're kidding," I said. "All three of them quit?" "Yes!"
It took a few minutes for this to all sink in. First place! This was my
"first" first place. In fact, it was my only first place for that year.
Some may wonder if it bothered me to know that the only way I could win a
first place was by having my competition drop out of the race. My answer to
that is, "No, not at all."
I have learned that that's the way it is in life; there are a lot more
quitters than doers in this world. The people who are willing to be in it
for the long haul and are willing to endure whatever it takes to achieve
their goals, ultimately become the most successful people.
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