Gemotions

“I know this is a lot to ask, Mark,” the swim coach began, his voice lowered. “But we need you on the butterfly. Your freestyle has been incredible, we all know it, but our butterfly leg… it’s lagging.” Mark stared at the water, its surface reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. He’d spent years perfecting his freestyle, the power, the rhythm, the flow.

He noticed his teammates, some smiling, some looking away. He knew they understood the sacrifice, the demands of the new stroke. He thought of his parents' pride, his own achievements, and felt a wave of disorientation.

Mark ran his hand through his hair, the gesture somehow calming. He felt a deep sigh escape his lungs. He walked towards the pool, the chlorine smell suddenly more pungent. He knew, despite the internal conflict, what he had to do.