Tuesday, March 16, 2010 (10:37 AM)
Passion
Haven't gone out in a long time. So hope today's gonna be awesome.
Sorry to Hazel Timothy Nicholas
And even more sorry to Jodee ZhiWei RongYi Amanda?
I really can't go cos I have competition events on consecutive days and my parents want me to rest. So hope you guys understand. Still love your as much, maybe next time ya(:
I'm going to write a reflection piece now.
Passion~
Today during training. So while doing kicking drills, I began to observe my surroundings. Of the pool, the splash, the kick, the paddles, the buoys, the plunch starts, the strokes, the running clock, the speed, and msot importantly, the SWIMPEOPLE. Why do I hate the sport, even if I'm slower, and slacker? And why do they not Ti's because of their passion, the enjoyment. And the sweat. The blood.
when they were asked to get up on the plunching boards, it's not as if they were asked to. They want to. they did it so. Majestically. Their jaws hardened, set on edge. they adjust their cap. They cover their goggles over their eyes. They take the position. They clenched their fists. They looked up. Not expectingly. But embracingly. Ready to embrace the sprint to come. When take your marks is given, they bent down is a poise. Every muscle of their body hardened. A mark signifying their determination. Their concentration. Their passion.
They take off. Their plunge professional. They sprint. Their strokes fresh with every new one raised. Their splash, is every ounce of effort given off. It's like they're radiating off sweat and blood. They persist with every move, every kick, every pull. Because of one thought. that thought, which is to conquer that sprint. they looked like never-ending machines, just going on and on. They're enjoying that momentary timed-swim. Passion. They probably could taste their own passion, own endurance. The passion.
They touched the end. Their timings are told. They lift their goggles. They pant. But one of victorious elation. they clenched their fist, pumped it into the air. Plastered on the faces, is one of satisfaction. One of granted happiness. they might be in the water. But the sweat, effort and blood is evident in every part of their body. Passion. From the heart.
They had conquered the sprint.
They had won their own race. With pride.
They had just displayed their passion. With might. With dignity.
'They' are just the older swimmers around me.
They might not be famous.
But one day their efforts, blood and sweat will pay off.
It's their passion. After all.
Such a passion.
