The Swimming Gala

Becky Thompson

One of my fondest memories which remains with me, is from my old school; Clifton Hall. It was nearing the end of primary five, just before the summer of 2003. the swimming gala had overshadowed the school with a dusty cloud of butterflies. They swamped around everyone, leaving people sick to the stomach with nerves. This was the day when everyone knew they had to succeed, and if you did not, God only knows what the P7 house captain would have done to you. If you lost a race, school would become a prison; you would lose respect from friends and be known as a failure for the rest of your life - or so everyone thought. House points meant everything at Clifton Hall. Absolutely everything.

I had always been keen on swimming and felt like one of the stronger ones in my class, but then again, my class only contained seven people. As the day dawned, the students were one big thunder storm; thoughts whizzing around our heads about what would happen when we lost a race. The parents sat in their poolside chairs. Half of them looked more anxious than us. The desperation for their kids to win the race was smothered all over their faces. Their eyes prowled round the room to compete with other parents who wanted their child to win. The competition had heated up.

The first race was front crawl. I was racing against my two friends. I knew they enjoyed swimming, but I had a secret confidence in myself. As I had swimming lessons with them earlier in the week, I knew my competition and realised if I really pushed myself I could win. They whistle blew and I dived into the freezing water. As my body entered, my pores tightened and turned into hard lumps. My entire body was soon covered in goosebumps. I avoided the contrast in temperature and began kicking my legs. They moved up and down in the water and pushed my body forward. My arms waded through and made spaces for my body to glide. I was soon in a repetitive rhythm and the only thing I needed was to control my banging heart. The pressure on my ribcage was intense and I could feel the vibration and jolt being pressured on to my ribs.

Once over half way, I looked back and saw my competition gaining on me, like sharks after their bait. I increased my pace and metaphorically stepped on it. my legs were tiring but I had to win this race. My drive was to succeed. Four metres away from the end. Three metres away from the end. I did not look back as I knew I had no time. One last push and I slammed my hands down on the edge. The crowed roared and I slowly noticed I was first. I breathed in the scent of happiness. I looked up at my House Captain who was overwhelmed. He gave me the thumbs up, which meant so much. My opponents gradually glided in. They were exhausted, whereas I still had tons of fuel in the tank.

I looked up to catch eyes with my parents. Their faces were gleaming. I could tell they were proud. That s the only thing I ever wanted to make them and that modest smile on their face meant the world. My house was in such shrill I felt incredible. I felt like a hero. I even went on to win the Under 12s Girls Cup and set a record for butterfly. This was definitely one of the best days of my life and I will never forget it. I went to bed that night with a feeling of complete satisfaction.