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The waves worked against me. Then, with my face down in murk, I thought, Wait — this is the ocean. There are no leeches. No. The slick creatures in my hair were the only thing worse than leeches. They were shit. Shit netted in my hair. I wanted to cry with my face underwater, but I thought, don't cry. The shit will get into your tear ducts.
6 lane 33m main pool and teaching pool.
I was swimming in a flume of raw sewage, coming from the cement pipe the woman was standing on. "No, no, no," I shouted into the wind. I lifted myself in the wave with three big kicks. The water around me was a soupy pale gloss, indifferently drifting out to sea. I could smell it now, black and foul. I put my hand on my head, in a reaction of pure grief, and found that my hair was covered with leeches. Leeches! Sea leeches! Sea leeches that fed on sewage!
Swimming is viewed as a sport or as recreation
The dipstick tour guide, with his floppy jungle hat and clipboard, croaked out only this: "You can't swim here." Which made me laugh, which allowed everyone else to laugh. And here's the thing, as shocked as I had been, I knew well enough that the only one who was going to take care of me was me. "I'm gonna need a bar of soap," I said.
swimming essaysSwimming is a recommendable sport in practical aspects
When I looked up, maybe ten yards from the shore, I could see the leader of my tour group cresting the rise, the rest of the tour behind him. The woman was running toward them, waving her arms like some rag doll. I climbed up and out, over the rocks, which were so intensely sharp that I fell over. Another mistake. I'd climbed up on a bed of sea urchins. I could hear the clinking of rucksacks as the group jogged toward me, the shit-poisoned urchin-attack victim.
Free swimming Essays and Papers - 123HelpMe
About halfway there, I hit seaweed, which has always given me the creeps. I looked back to the shore. The woman was waving. Silly. She wanted me not to take the risk, but I knew I was fine. We couldn't hear each other — too windy — so I swam on, seaweed and all. A few moments later, it was draped over my arms. I decided to head back. By now the woman was jumping up and down, screaming. I figured the bus was leaving. Just as well — the seaweed was driving me crazy. I brushed it away again. Once, then twice.