Last Breath

For neary nine years now I have been a member of a swim team, and I love it. I love the competition, the excitement of racing, of cheering on my teammates, of my teammates cheering on me. I love the feeling of accomplishing something great, whether a new best time, trying a new event, or even just finishing a hard practice. I have done demanding sets that have forced me to practice sprinting with all of my might but without taking a breath, so I ask if it is rational that one of my greatest fears is drowning?

Now, I am not worried everyday as I show up for practice and take my dive off the blocks. I have great confidence in my ability to keep myself afloat on top of the water and I always know that if I need a breath, I can simply turn my head to the side. If I am underwater and I get some water running up my nose, it is no big deal, I have gotten used to it.

Still, perhaps this prolonged exposure to the experience of losing oxygen has done its toll. As we practice holding our breath at the bottom of the pool, my fear grows, the longer I stay down there. As I wait, I can feel the tips of my fingers and toes go numb. My arms began to feel weak as the oxygen leaves them. I feel a frog forming in my throat as my lungs try to ask for more oxygen and try to pull it in, but there is nothing to pull. The pressure builds in my chest as the oxygen is being replaced by carbon dioxide and I begin to feel heavy. I try to relieve the pressure, and just let a little bit out at a time, but then it shifts and suddenly the water is pushing on my lungs trying to squeeze every last bit of breath I have out of me. I feel heavy in the water and I know that I have to work to get to the surface. I use the bottom to push off towards the surface, each second another bit of torture, but finally I break the water to end the pain and fear. One breath, and back down I go...