Gray clouds started to roll in and cover up the sun as the sleeping butterflies in my stomach awakened. I reluctantly walked up the hill onto the gravel that felt like broken glass under my bare feet and into the back of my dad’s truck. I posed for one last picture, and then off it was to start the race.

     That race was many years ago, but I can still recall it with strong nervousness. I was nine at the time, and my mom and dad had forced me to participate in The Swim for the Cup. It was a race that took place every year at Babcock Lake. I always knew that there was going to be a year where I would have to participate in the race, but I never knew it would come so soon.

     I tried to smile and cheer up, but at this point my nerves had taken up my whole body. I looked back at the road and all the pebbles flying up from the tires. My dad pulled into the driveway, and I ducked under the branches of a maple tree. All the other kids hopped out and raced down the hill. As I hopped out of the back of the car, I pleaded to my dad to spare me and let me skip the race, but deep down I knew that would never happen and that all I could do at this point was persevere.

     I slowly hobbled down the hill, wanting to throw up and disappear forever. I saw my friends and tried to cheer up, but nothing worked. I was too nervous. A tall man with a scraggly beard started to take attendance. I thought, this is my chance! I can just not say “here” when he calls on me! But out of knowing my parents would literally kill me if I didn’t swim, when he called my name, I said, “Here.”

      I trudged into the water and swam out to the raft, kicking and splashing, trying to conserve energy for the mile-long race. I got up onto the raft and jumped into the water. I begged my mom one more time, but as expected, she said, “No,” and tried to make me think more positively. Before I knew it the race had started, and the splashes of people swimming their hardest hit me in the face. I reluctantly started swimming. All hope of somehow getting out of participating in the race had long vanished.

     I felt a drop of water on my forehead, but it wasn’t the splashing of a person swimming next to me. I looked up, the sun was gone, and in its place were gray, gloomy clouds that stretched across the sky like paint, covering up the sunny blue sky that once lay in its place. My mind, only wanting the race to be over, regained the hope of it thundering. If it thundered we would have to get out of the water and call off the race for today. Fingers crossed, I wish that it would thunder.

     A few seconds later, I felt more drops on my forehead. “Did you feel that, Mom?”

     “Yeah, I think it’s going to rain,” she replied.

     “Do you think it’s going to thunder,” I asked eagerly.

     “I don’t know, maybe your dad will know. Simon!” She got interrupted by the downpour of rain. Fog quickly settled in, and tornado-like wind followed.

     “Ugh,” I heard my sister groan; it was her first year doing the race too.  “My goggles keep on fogging up!”

     “Give them to me,” my dad said, reaching over from his kayak. She reached over and handed him the goggles. I was trying to do backcrawl, but the rain kept on falling down. It felt like the race was going on forever, but I kept on pushing through, one stroke at a time.

     I turned the corner into a patch of seaweed.  “Aaah,” I screamed.

     “What?” my mom asked, concerned.

     “There’s seaweed,” I exclaimed.

     “Just swim through it quickly,” she replied calmly. I groaned but kept on swimming. I finally got out of the seaweed and redirected myself towards the finish line at the beach.  My muscles ached, and I could barely see or hear a thing.

     The minutes went by as I got closer and closer to the finish. I’m almost there. I swiftly flipped onto my back and used all my might to race to the rope. I started to hear a crowd of people cheering. I swam until my hand slapped the rope. I got up with a tired but overjoyed smile. I lifted up the rope and trudged over to my sister, who was waiting for me. She scooped me up and carried me shallower. I could barely feel my legs, but I had a smile on my face.

     I was glad it was over and glad that I persevered and overcame my fear. I pushed through and finished the race. I didn’t win, but I didn’t care because I had persevered and overcame my fear. The next time you’re faced with something terrifying, take it heads on.

-Bryn L.