By Kevin Baxter, Swimming World Guest Contributor
“Fractures well cured make us more strong.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Clearing the numbers on my stopwatch I realized that when I clicked the start button again I would be timing more than a swimming event. The clock was already ticking in so many ways that had nothing to do with an athletic event and everything to do with a whole different race against time.
Our daughter Colleen, now an eighth grader, was an excellent swimmer and today had reached the pinnacle of her tiny athletic world. My wife Jodi and I had traveled 80 kilometers north of our Arabian compound at Abqaiq, to Ras Tanura, another Saudi Aramco camp located on the Persian Gulf, to watch her swim in the Regional Finals of the highly competitive Aramco Swim League. The top three swimmers in each age division would be advancing to the National Finals. Colleen wanted to be in that top three.
Today however, there would be other issues on our minds besides whether or not show she would win any medals. It was November of 2002. The date 9-11 was still very fresh in all of our minds for so very many reasons. Living in Saudi Arabia, we were constantly being made aware of our surroundings and who exactly had brought those planes down on that terrible day. We knew that Al Qaeda was a terrorist group that had little to do with the Saudi population in general, but we were constantly in a state of orange alert. A recent event in Kingdom did little to allay our fears and had set our nerves on edge. On the night of May 12, several vehicles containing heavily armed Al Qaeda assault teams under orders of Saad Bin Laden arrived at three Riyadh compounds. Thirty people were murdered during those attacks including nine Americans.
As Colleen stood up on her block to swim her first race, Jodi and I had noticed that the swimmers blocks on either side of her were empty. Perusing the event sheet I detected that both scratched swimmers were from Riyadh. I was hoping they were either in lockdown or too distraught to make the trip to Ras Tanura. I did not want to think of any other alternative.
Jodi and I had another reason to be concerned as well. Lately, Colleen had been prone to sudden seizures, which would cause her to pass out and collapse. The seizures had taken place during cross-country meets, at choral concerts, on a class trip, and at a recent swim meet. The worst one happened during a school day, where she passed out and fell down a flight of stairs. She was sent to Dhahran Hospital where a specialist had diagnosed her with syncope, a slowing down of blood flow that causes the heart to drop her blood pressure, thus preventing blood flow to the brain. We were advised to allow her live a normal life, as she would “outgrow it.”
Finding Motivation
Photo Courtesy: Kevin Baxter
The meet began and Colleen did not perform well in her first event. Finishing well back in the butterfly, she seemed exhausted. She had four events to go, but based on her finish in the first race, things did not bode well for her winning any medals today. Jodi and I were more concerned that she would over-extend herself and pass out in the middle of a race. We were both prepared to dive in the pool and bail her out if needed.
As the day progressed, she had mixed results in her finishes. However, as her final event approached, I scanned the time sheets and realized that if she could finish second in the backstroke, she would have enough points to earn an overall bronze for the meet. I was now caught between wanting her to make it through this meet unscathed or inviting disaster to accomplish a hard earned goal. I watched her lying on her towel appearing absolutely exhausted, trying to regain her strength. Crouching beside her, I offered a bottle of water that I knew she would not accept in her frustration.
“You’re doing a great job today, Colleen. We’re so proud of you.” She did not respond. Turning away, I could sense that she was not proud of herself, so I returned and crouched beside her.
“Colleen, Mom and I are just so glad you are here with us and healthy enough to even compete. Regardless of how you finish, you have been an excellent swimmer.”
Then, to try and shake her from her depression, I pressed her a little.
“Just so you know though, if you take second in the back, you’ll get silver for the race…and win the overall bronze for the meet.” Colleen snapped her head around to face me. “Really?”
“Yep, I checked the standings. You are only a few points out of third overall. I’d say take first but the girl from Jeddah has an incredible time. I doubt you’ll beat her. But you are only a couple hundredths off the girl with the second place time.”
Colleen rose off of her towel and reached for her goggles. “Where are you going?” I asked as she was already moving. She did not look back, but extended her hand.
“To warm up. Water please.”
Revealing the Fighter
Photo Courtesy: Kevin Baxter
As the starter yelled, “Set!” I walked to the middle section of the pool to get a good view. Colleen coiled her body up against the pool wall so that when the gun went off, she would explode into her start. It was not enough. The 100 backstroke was four long tough laps, so by the time the swimmers had turned for their second lap, Colleen was second to last and 20 yards behind the top four swimmers. I looked over at Jodi who appeared absolutely stoic, disappointed I knew, but never going to let anyone, especially Colleen think that she was anything but tremendously proud of her. As I watched Colleen struggling mightily to keep up, I muttered under my breath, “God love ya kid. You are a fighter.”
As the swimmers approached the wall for their final 25 meters I thought of those missing kids from Riyadh and told myself that I really didn’t give a damn how Colleen finished. As competitive as I was, it was dawning on me that all I really wanted for my children was for them to be safe and healthy. I had to admit though, that I did want this for Colleen because she had trained so hard and so much of her self-image was wrapped up in being a good swimmer.
As the swimmers submerged for their final turn, Colleen was still 10 meters behind. All that practice, all those laps. I shook my head, feeling disappointed for her. I should have had more faith.
Colleen reached the turn and blistered it, not emerging until she was a quarter length down the final lap, surfacing with her legs kicking like pistons. Half way through the lap she was only a few meters back and had passed all but three swimmers, legs churning water, arms clawing. I couldn’t keep myself from yelling, “Colleen! Swim! Swim like hell!”
I was in a near frenzy yelling for my daughter to out swim her illness, out swim the fearful world that she would inherit, out distance all of her demons.
The first swimmer, now pulling for all she was worth in a panic, touched the wall just a millisecond ahead of Colleen and another powerful swimmer, churning stroke for stroke.
I grabbed Colleen barely in time to keep her from sinking, as her eyes rolled up in her head. I stretched her out on the pool deck and lifted her back so she could resume breathing. Jodi leaned over me whispering, “Just give her time.”
An hour or so later, during the medal ceremony, as Colleen was walking up to the podium to receive her medal, the parent of a swimmer leaned in to speak. “That kid is a fighter,” she said. “Yes,” I replied. “Yes, she is.”
About the Author: Kevin Baxter is a teacher and writer. He spent 12 years teaching in Saudi Arabia where his wife was also a teacher and his three daughters went to school and swam competitively for the Abqaiq Stingray Swim Club. In 2003 Mr. Baxter and his family moved to Asheville, North Carolina where he continued to teach and was selected as the Buncombe County Teacher of the Year in 2006. Today Mr. Baxter writes for publications such as Teaching Tolerance Magazine, The National Literacy Council and Teacher’s and Writers Magazine. His wife Jodi, is a teacher as well while his three daughters Clair, Colleen and Marie, own and operate a local bakery.
Charles P Baughman really inspirational story about being a swimmer/swim parent. ?
I will give it a read
inspirational story about the indomitable spirit of a great young lady
Marsha Logan Smitherman thought of you when I saw this …. In the words of Adele Peacock’s mom “Tell Adele to swim like He**” ?
Your story about “Adele” still makes me laugh!!!
Mike Nelson Tina Wasson Nelson