It's another ordinary pre-meet warm up. Jump in the pool; do the standard issue 1000-metres choice stroke and drills. Nothing ever changes. Then, just like that.BANG! It's Beijing 2008. I'm Michael Phelps, heading in to finish the 100-metre butterfly. I take a half stroke, lunging for the wall and extending my long arms. Just barely out touching Milorad Cavic of Serbia; I scrape up yet another gold by a hundredth of a second. .
Sitting on the couch half way across the world, watching in anticipation, a younger version of me watches in awe as history is made yet again by Michael Phelps: "Mom, I want to be just like him," I blurt out, not even caring what would be said. That's me and who I was to become from that moment onward. I was to become a swimmer.
In a cut back to reality, it's July 2013. It's Age Group Provincial Championships, one of the biggest competitions for a swimmer of my age and caliber. I stand outfitted in my Speedo Lzr Elite 2 lineup, feeling and definitely looking the part. Behind the block waiting for the 800-metre freestyle, I stand waiting with a nervous excitement contained inside me. This is the race that could either take it to another level or bar my way to success. It's time. The whistle blows, piercing the now silent pool deck. I step up on the block, feeling the gritty surface beneath my feet: "Take your marks" comes from the announcer. Gripping the block, I get into my track start position. I feel my performance suit tighten around my body, compressing me into optimal form, making it possible for my body to cut through the water like a dolphin. "Go!" suddenly booms through the air. I'm off like a shot, sprinting down the 50-metre pool in thirty seconds. .
At a breakneck pace, I keep going. Feeling the resistance that the water gives me, I pull on. The dubstep music I listened to before the race plays, ingrained in my brain, motivating me to push harder and harder.