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In the article swimming for her life by: Kristin Lewis. The main character in the article is Yusra Mardini. Some details about her is she is 18years old and she lives in Syria. The problems she faced was she lived in Syria during a war. Another problem she faced was she needed to flee so that means she will become a refugee.
One freezing February Saturday, I needed wake up at six in the morning to go play in a volleyball tournament. The rest of my family was in Arizona and had left me in Iowa Falls, so I wouldn 't miss my finishing tournament of the season. I wasn 't jubilant about it, but I agreed anyway. My grandma drove me up to Dike New Hartford High School.
WSTC formally known as Wayland Swim and Tennis Club isn't just a swim club to its members. It serves as a summer home for them. The light brown curvy pathway leads directly to the old wooden sign in tabel. The table has lost a leg, but it still stands there every year welcoming anyone who reaches it. Names are etched into the table from years prior adding a sense of charm to what some might call junk.
Literary Analysis of The Swimmer Thesis: Cheever uses symbolism, imagery, and tone to convey the theme of narcissism and suburban emptiness during the 1960’s. Symbolism Pools Storms Seasons End of youth
Throughout playing tennis for Creekside Middle School, I have faced lots of success. I played varsity all three years there, and during my sixth grade year, helped my team win the annual county tournament between middle schools. Though I was successful for many of my matches, I did met with failure at times. One of these times would be in my seventh grade year, when my doubles partner and I had lost in the final round of the tournament.
It had been a long day at the softball field and everyone on my team was exhausted. We had won every game that we had played that day. We had made it to the championship and we're ready to win. I was the pitcher so I had an important duty, to pitch as best as I could.
Everyone must have been through a significant change in one point of their life. The significant change that I been through was in my early age. During those few years attending to Atlantic Middle School, I survived from cultural differences and language barriers. When I was fourteen years old I traveled by myself from my home in Fuzhou (a city in southern China) to Boston, Massachusetts to reunite with my family, who had been living in the United States for the past eight years.
Within seconds, I felt invisible as the mob of people surrounded me to hop in the pool and begin swimming. The next couple of weeks were not much different, and I struggled to keep up with the challenging practices. I was becoming more familiar with my lane, and I was getting to know some new people. My coach was still a stranger to me, and just a man giving directions to me back then. I was intimidated by him, and I felt like he was watching my every move.
When I was six years old, I would not let go of my dad when we first entered the pool for the fear that I would drown. Now I am seven-teen years old and I fear not being fast enough. Swimming is my passion, and my life, but this wasn’t always the case. Since my high school doesn’t offer a swim team, I sought a team outside of my school district. After finding that Banning High school offered an after school swim team, I joined their swim team around the age of twelve.
Swimming in West Point Lake is one way I relax and calm my nerves. Some people may have the perspective of the lake being disgusting because it is filled with squishy mud and it is filthy, but I view it as being a relaxation resort. The water from the lake is a refreshment to my parched skin, and the view of the lake’s surroundings scream beautiful words to my frustrating ears. While I swim, I just ponder on letting all my worries go one stroke at a time. Swimming also relaxes me because when I am in the water it feels as if heavy weights are lifted off my shoulders.
Participating in high school soccer has taught me many life lessons, of which “determination” was the most important. At Fleetwood High School, soccer is a highly respected sport. As a freshman, I competed against many talented upper classmen for a spot on the team. Being one of the youngest players trying out was intimidating, but it forced me to establish a goal for myself. I was determined to, not only make the team, but to make the varsity team.
My passion for track and field began with a Nike advertisement. At age ten, I opened the newspaper to a two-page spread of the hometown distance running legend Steve Prefontaine overlaid by a paragraph of inspirational copy. It concluded asking, “Where is the Next Pre?” The story of his small town Oregon roots, gutsy racing style, and ambition to be the best resonated with me like nothing ever had before. I told myself I was the next Pre, and then tore off for my first run through the streets of Eugene, Oregon – “Tracktown USA”.
I had been working hard and really felt like a part of the team. The first real challenge I faced was trying to live in the shadow of my older brothers. Who both had success in their running careers. It was the third race of the year and I was running in the varsity race against our conference rival. To me, this race was a chance to prove I was an important member of the team and could possibly lead the team as captain in the future.
My swim coach is someone I have known for very little time, but I already know will make a huge impact in my life. Bob has been coaching for over forty years and although I have only known him for three weeks, I have already developed a love-hate relationship with him. He loves to torture me at practice, and I hate it. He is an older guy with a big personality. You can hear him even when he’s not in the room.
Tuning out the noise, I tucked my head under the water, staring at the pool’s tiled floor. Nearing the wall, I lifted my head to gather a breath of air before my flip turn to start my second lap. Looking up, I saw five of my team members at the end of my lane cheering for me. With a renewed energy from their excitement, I turned and continued the race. After the race was over and I was out of the pool, I took my hard-earned ribbon and scurried back to where my swim
