The Moments Before the Race

        My legs nearly froze in the moments before the race. I had warmed up previously, so I was all wet, but, at least, my arms had my Nike jacket over my wet swimsuit.
        The announcer breaks in onto the intercom, announcing my race in five minutes. I unzip my jacket throw it on a littered bench in the hallway and shudder at the breeze. Feet away, a girl in a red swimsuit shakes her arms. I look down at my own purple one, pull it up, and stride out to the pool deck, opening my lungs by raising my arms.
        While I get with my teammates to perform our school (GO MINNOWS!), the other team scoffs at our childish behavior. My cheeks heat up, and I'm sure I blush a crimson red.
        The announcer gets on the intercom once again, announcing the 100 Freestyle lineup. I take my spot next to the #8 starting block.
        "Swimmers," I take a deep breath as the voice cackles throughout the silent room, "Step up."
        I step up the metal step to the plastic board. I can look out to the still, empty water, placing one of my feet so the tips of my toes hang over the edge of the platform and the other behind in a ready stance, but still stand straight.
        "Take your mark."
        I bend over, the tip of my fingers resting on the edge of the block. My rear sticks up in the air, and I stare into the blue water and the blue stripe.
        I am intent on winning, or at least not allowing the red Cheetahs to take the medal.
        My lungs expand and contract.
        A horn sounds in the distance, ringing in my ears. I push off  the block, arching my back and pointing my fingers in a triangle over my head. My toes curve like a ballerina going on point and I plunge underneath the icy water.