In the water, I was weightless and fast and focused. I marveled at the changes in my body, the newfound definition, the strength and power I felt. As I improved, I marveled at the progress I made. Always, I tried to swim faster and faster. I challenged myself to stay underwater as long as I could before surfacing and beginning to stroke. I practiced flip turns endlessly, trying to push off the wall at each end of the pool with as much force as possible. I loved trying to perfect my form, cupping my hands just so, kicking my legs without creating too much splash. I loved pushing myself, seeing how fast I could get. The only sport I ever demonstrated any kind of aptitude for was swimming, which I loved because it was just me, trying to pull myself through the water as quickly and efficiently as possible. My parents, understanding the importance of an active lifestyle, enrolled me in all kinds of sports - soccer, softball, basketball - but little of it took. I wanted to spend all my time with books.
I was a dreamer and something of an oddball loner. As a child, I was awkward and unathletic and uninterested in becoming athletic. I have long had a complicated relationship with my body.
