Today, was indeed Thursday. It was a good and a bad day in a few different ways. On the bright side of things, today was the last day of school, Summer Vacation is officially under way. On the not-so-bright side of things, today was also the last day of finals, and for me the hardest day: AP History and Honors English exams. I don't think I did very well, which is kind of too bad, because I believe that I learned quite a bit this year. Finals do not prove anything, I am entirely against them, because they don't reflect me properly, they are a completely stressful waste of time. Now that I've vented about that, I shall move on to the major topic of this post...
Swim Practice...
Thursdays, for the last three months, have been 200 Freestyle practices. This has been quite helpful to me in developing my 200 Freestyle race strategy, and bringing down my time. Two weeks ago, I clocked my best time ever by about 3 seconds, that time being 2 minutes and 24.15 seconds.
The strategy I've adopted is this: 1.) Swim the first 75 yards with a long, smooth, but still quick stroke, to conserve energy, but to make use of how I am able to swim my best. 2.) Next, swim 50 yards at a long sprint pace. At this point I will really start to push it, because, after all, it's only 50 yards. 3.) Finally, since I'm completely warmed up, I'll give everything I have for the last 75 yards. This is where I push it to the limit, the most important part of the race. Also, I always try to push it even more for the last 25 yards, the final lap, and the finish.
Today was like every other Thursday, 200 Freestyle day. I was doing extremely well, because we were working on lengthening our freestyle, and achieving the most out of every single stroke. I was finishing most of the sets first, and I was really happy with how much I was accomplishing. Then came the final part of practice: the actual 200 Freestyle, off the blocks, for time. This is where I accomplished my all-time best time two weeks ago, so after such a great practice, I though sure I could beat my time. The only problem is, I wanted to break that time a little bit too much. I pushed myself too hard, and paid the consequences.
We started, and I ditched my strategy, at that point all I was thinking about was going the absolute fastest that my body would take me. Bad idea... The first 100 yards went exceptionally well, however, that's if a 100 yard event was what I was swimming. It wasn't though, I was swimming the 200 yard event, and I had just about used up everything I had on the first half of my swim. After that half-way mark, I don't really remember much. I wasn't conscious of much of anything. I wasn't even counting laps, so I don't know how I finished it at the right time. My body was swimming, my mind was blacking out. I've swum the 200 yard even so many times, that since my mind wasn't functioning properly, it took over and finished everything up. But the body doesn't work quite as well on it's own, and I slowed down quite a bit during the second half of the race.
Whatever the case, though, I finished it, and I clocked a very respectable 2 minutes and 25 seconds. I wasn't very excited about this time, because at the time I discovered it, I felt horrible, and just wanted to be sick. Everything turned out alright, and I have not suffered physically in any way that I know of. The thing I'm worried about, though, Is the mental aspect of my race. I'm not sure anymore how hard I can push myself. I don't want what happened today ever to happen again, it was an extremely frightening experience. Hopefully I can recover from this, and keep on swimming the 200 yard Freestyle in the way that I know I can. I still have a little over a second to drop before I accomplish next year's High School State qualifying time; however this shouldn't be a problem, because I've got plenty of time.
Well, I have a story that's rather interesting, but also a bit sad. Today, after I got home from school, I decided to go outside and throw a Frisbee around for a while. As I walked out to the lawn, though, an intriguing site stopped me. There lying in the walkway was a pigeon. It was barely moving, but I could see that it was still breathing. I slowly approached, trying not to scare it, but when it still didn't move, I prodded it a little. It moved around some, clearly putting a lot of effort forth, and even flapped its wings a few times to little avail. This proved that it was injured, but while it was moving I noticed that it had a blue band on its leg; not only was this an injured bird, it was a tagged bird.
About this time, mother arrived home from work, and I got her attention to come over. She carried it up onto the deck, and we tried to get it to drink some water, but failed at this. Then we went inside to call the Humane Society, which turned out not to be open. Next, we called the veterinarian's office. We were then told to contact a lady who works specifically with birds, who told us to log on the internet and look up the International Federation of Homing Pigeons. Using the code on the pigeon's tag: AU 2005 MED 0333, we discovered that the owner had registered his pigeon through the American Racing Pigeon Union, and belonged to a club out of Medford, Massachusetts. We called the club's number, and left a message, which was returned in about ten minutes. We gave him the code on the blue band, and he said he'd contact the owner.
Within an half hour, we were contacted by the pigeon's owner. When he learned where we were, he informed us that he's 81 years old, and doesn't have an automobile. We realized that this could be a problem, since he was calling us from Massachusetts. We asked if we should take him the veterinarian's office to get some medical attention, but he didn't seem to like that idea. He said that a hawk had probably gotten it, but didn't understand what it was doing so far north. Then with the conversation drawing to a close, he told us we could feed the pigeon bird seed, and that if he remembered, he'd call back in a week to check in on it. Clearly this bird doesn't mean to much too much to this man, so now we have an injured pigeon in our hands. Luckily it's drinking water and eating bird seed, but we aren't' exactly sure what to do with it.
How sad it is that the owner of this pigeon cares so little for it. On a happier note, the cat seems a kind of interested, but when I lifted her up to look at it, she acted a bit scared. What a silly cat, afraid of a pigeon, even though she hunts birds daily.
I’m young. Why do I worry? I should be living; I should be dreaming. Why do I follow the lead of those around me, rushing through life without stopping to see the beauty in the simplest things? Those are the things that really matter, but not in today’s society. If you stop to drink in the simplicity, you are quickly left behind. It seems like people are forced to give up their childhood much too early. You’re the odd one out if you don’t manage to obtain a part-time job at some point throughout your high school career. You’re a weird kid if you’re able to keep more than one weekend free over the course of a month. Society doesn’t appreciate idleness. Go, go, go! But I don’t want to go; I want to stop. I want everything to just slow down so I won’t be completely overtaken. I haven’t taken any initiative, though. I’ve jumped right into the fray and I’ve just been swept up into the thick of things with everyone else. What I really long for is to find my way back to the outskirts, away from the action, a place I’ve been absent from for much too long. I just want to escape from the fast-track and return to the innocent existence of my childhood. I want to dream.
School is almost over, Summer's almost come, That's all I can seem to think about, While I sit here chewing bubble-gum. The heat is here, The humidity too; I just want to go swimming, And not know what to do. I don't want to be here, This place is quite depressing, I just can't wait until next week, When we’ll begin final testing. I need a vacation, One far away from here, So I'm going to Mexico, And leaving behind this drear. Running from it all, Going far away, Out of the nation, For a nice three week stay. To escape from the feeling, The overwhelming stress, I just want out of New Hampshire, To leave behind this mess. But I know it'll still be here, I know it will remain, Like when you slide on the grass, It's sure to leave a stain.
I’m really beginning to wonder. It seems like every day holds something that causes me to experience mental anguish; it seems as if the day isn’t complete until something gets under my skin. I wish that I could live a more carefree life; I wish I could find a way to be consistently happy. There are many things throughout each day which help me to be content; however the little things just keep on managing to disrupt everything. Would it be too much to ask for a day that I could just call a good day? It’s frustrating, but it has been a long time since I’ve had one of those. As this drought continues, I begin to wonder what is causing it; day after day, week after week that good day just doesn’t come. Then, I begin to blame the things around me, my environment, and eventually, the people around me; however, it doesn’t help, because I know it isn’t theirs or anyone else’s fault. When issuing blame fails, I look myself in the mirror, and I begin to wonder if it is my fault, if I’m not doing something wrong to cause myself to feel this way. Again, it’s frustrating. I must keep working on this problem, though, because it has had an enormous effect on me. I want things to either change, or go back to how they used to be. I want to have a good day.
