The Turbulent Twenty-Five

Submitted by scott
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There comes a day in every child’s life that they must face their fears. For Special K, today is that day.

Several months ago…

The excitement in the air was palpable as Special K suited up in her brand new swimwear. She donned her pink swim cap and reflective goggles, which would surely shave seconds off her time, and she was ready to hop into… the car.

The ride to the aquatic center was full of quiet, nervous energy as Special K tried to mentally prepare herself for what was to come next. Upon entering the complex, it soon became apparent that Special K would be swimming with the bubbly yet surely underpaid teenage girl, and her partner in crime... a nice enough lad who was a little unsure if the parents leering from the stands were truly okay with him touching their children.

Drop-off went swimmingly. Special K only cried a little, and didn’t require the usual “peel and run” maneuver, which quite literally involves peeling the kid off of a leg, and running for the door before she knows what to do (probably leading to abandonment issues as she sees her parent sprinting away from her).

After getting coaxed into the water, Special K took to it like a fish. So much so that she quickly moved up from “happy fun splash class”, to “oh… this is swimming class,” and her biggest challenge was waiting right around the corner.

Today…

The seas are angry today. Today, Special K will have to swim the entire length of the pool… all twenty-five yards of it. Being the youngest in her class, she tentatively moves through the water like an otter trying to avoid the hungry jaws of a great white shark. She positions herself in the back of the queue so she will be the last to embark on the long journey. One by one the others shove off, and with each leg kick the waters below grow more turbulent.

Finally, it comes time for Special K to be on her way, and the instructor signals for her to begin. As she shakes her head “no” the waves continue to grow, cresting at a height of at least one inch… but at last, with much trepidation, she pushes off. With textbook freestyle form the distance flies by. Stroke… stroke… stroke… doggy paddle… breathebreathebreathe! Stroke… stroke… stroke… doggy paddle… breathebreathebreathe!

Over the turbulent twenty-five, she is now triumphant!


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