Have you ever felt that sensation of irrepressible dread, when you suddenly realize that it’s your turn to perform or compete for something? In fourth, fifth, and sixth grade I swam on the swim team. Swim practice was always an excruciating and exhausting experience, full of swimming lap after lap of varying strokes without stopping. But, most daunting of all were the swim meets every Saturday. Swim meets tended to last about three to four hours, and you usually had to stay the whole time because each of your events were spread out through the meet. I usually swam the breaststroke, freestyle and backstroke. Although swim meets were time-consuming and tiring, they helped me prove to myself that, with courage and a lot of practice, I could succeed.

The event I was probably the best at was the twenty-five meter backstroke. Typically each team would lay out towels and sit together, each swimmer waiting for their events to be called. A few minutes before my event was announced, I went to line up with the other swimmers competing in my event. Slowly we moved down the line towards the starting blocks. Those few minutes felt like hours as I nervously adjusted my swim cap, unfogged my goggles for what seemed like the millionth time, and picked at my finger nail polish.

Finally we were standing behind the starting blocks as the announcer called out, “Girls twenty-five meter backstroke!” Adrenaline began to surge through my body. I walked to the edge of the pool, the bright blue water glistening and sparkling as if daring me to jump in too soon and disqualify myself. As nervous thoughts flew through my mind, the announcer bellowed “TAKE YOUR MARK!” I jumped into the freezing water, faced the wall, grabbed the bar on the starting block and pulled myself up. My toes rested on the edge of the pool, ready to propell my body backwards, and my arms were in a pull-up position. My fingers were white as I clung to the bar and my toes gripped the edge of the pool. “BZZZ!” the buzzer sounded the start of the race and suddenly my instinct seemed to kick in.

My hands soared off the starting block and I clasped them together in a streamlined dive, my legs pushing my body into a rainbow-like arc. I flew through the air, my fingertips pierced the water and I glided beneath the surface, using three butterfly stroke kicks to push myself through the shimmering liquid. At last I broke through the surface, passing the first set of flags suspended above the water, taking greedy gulps of air. My arms were like windmills against the resistance of the water, and my adrenaline was making me fly through the water. The words of my coach circulated through my head as I instinctively moved my hands through the water, “Thumb first, pinky second; thumb, pinky, thumb, pinky…” My legs were kicking so hard they were beginning to feel as if weights had been attached to them. All I could hear was the rush of the water, the muffled sounds of a shouting crowd, and the rapid intake of my breath. I had no idea how far down the lane I’d swum, or, more importantly, how far I had to go.

My only thoughts were of touching the wall and finishing the race; at last I passed the last set of flags, indicating that I was close to the wall. I did two more strokes and stretched my arm out, kicking hard, until, finally, I reached the wall. Immediately, I stood up in the shallow end, took my goggles off, and climbed out of the water. My mom handed me a towel and congratulated me saying, “You did a great job!” I gratefully wrapped myself up in the towel, shivering all over again. As I stood there, dripping wet, someone handed me a first place ribbon!

“Thank you so much!” I breathed, and I walked  away, grinning. I couldn’t wait to share my success.

That day I was able to overcome my nerves and win a first place ribbon. I didn’t know what the outcome would be as I nervously stood on the edge of the pool before the race. All I could do was try my best. As it turns out, sometimes you don’t always succeed, but with losing comes the opportunity to learn from the past and persevere in the future. But, sometimes doing your best is all it takes to win. I have realized that, with perseverance and the courage to try, often times you will succeed.