Gemotions

The smell of chlorine usually invigorated David, but today it just made him nauseous. The coach’s news, that he was to become a butterfly swimmer, after years of excelling in the freestyle, had hit him like a physical blow. The coach praised his 'versatility' and 'team spirit,' but all David felt was a crushing disappointment.

The water felt wrong, too heavy. He fought to keep his head above it, the rhythmic breath-hold-and-release pattern of the butterfly feeling like a suffocating rhythm he could not escape. His arms ached, his lungs burned, and the triumphant cheers he used to crave now sounded like distant echoes.

He felt like a stranger in his own body. His muscles, so attuned to the powerful strokes of freestyle, felt clumsy and uncoordinated. He watched the other swimmers, their movements graceful and familiar, and a wave of bitterness washed over him. He was losing, and his spirit was not with him.