Swimming through fear
I was on a tour of France with my friends when our car pulled to a stop at the beach
and we saw the Mediterranean Sea. Massive waves surged against large rocks that
formed a waterproof jetty. People said this beach was known for its notorious rip
currents.
I shivered with fear. Nothing scared me as much as water.
Just the sight of the sea made me sick to my stomach.
I'd always loved water and been a good swimmer until last summer, when I'd decided to
climb up to the highest diving board at the pool. I'd hopped from that height and hit the
water with an incredible impact. The air was ousted from my lungs and I blacked out.
The next thing I knew, my brother was pulling my feeble body out of the pool.
From then on, my fear wouldn't recede ; I was absolutely terrified of water.
"Jason, are you coming?" my friend, Matt, called.
"Yeah," I said. "Just enjoying the view," from dry land, I added silently,
worried they might deem my fear pathetic if they knew.
Suddenly I heard shouting in French. A mob of people were running into the sea,
fully clothed. That's odd, I thought.
I glimpsed something moving up and down amid the waves, past the end of the jetty.
I gasped, realizing the catastrophe with horror. That's a little boy out there!
The would-be rescuers fought against the tide, but the situation was bleak.
With the water's tow, they'd never get to him in time.
I looked back at the boy. His head popped up, then a wave crashed over him
and he disappeared for a moment; I had to intervene.
I appraised the situation and realized – the jetty! The boy was close to it;
maybe I could help from there. I raced down the beach, out onto the jetty,
and it hit me: Water! My palms got sweaty and my stomach felt sick,
symptoms of my fear. I stopped short.
The people in the water had underestimated the waves and weren't making any progress.
I was the only one who saw that going out on the jetty was the fastest way to
reach the drowning boy. Yet in the midst of this tragedy, I was extremely terrified.
I tried to remember the lifeguard training I'd had as a teenager.
I was paralyzed with fear, but I forced myself to move forward with
this impromptu rescue. I don't want this. Surely someone else can save him
before I have to.
At the ridge of the jetty, I whirled around, convinced I'd see an athletic swimmer
plowing through the rough water toward the boy. To my dismay, no one was there.
I turned back out to the sea to see the boy battered by vicious waves about 25 yards
away from me. Sucking in a deep breath, I threw myself into the water.
As soon as I jumped in, I felt like I was back in that pool, breathless, struggling,
terrified. Salt stung my eyes. Focus, I shouted in my head. Where is he?
Then, with clarity, I saw a thin arm waving weakly a few yards away.
I swam with all my strength, reaching the boy just as he sank below the surface.
I grabbed his arm and pulled. He popped back up, eyes wide with terror,
pawing and twisting against me. "Repose (Calm down)!" I commanded the boy in French.
His struggling would derail any rescue attempt, and we'd both perish. "Repose!"
I commanded again. Thankfully, this time he listened, and was still.
When I turned back toward shore a wave pounded over us. The jetty was further away!
The rip current! It was forcibly dragging us out to the sea. I fought to get us back to
land, but made little progress. I knew I'd never be able to escort him back like this.
Desperate to survive, I remembered what I'd learned in my life saving class:
Never, ever swim against the rip current! Swim sideways to the pull of the current
and slowly make your way back toward shore. It was an odd-looking but practicable
solution. Swim sideways and float to rest. Swim sideways and float to rest.
We did that over and over. We slowly made our way to safety. "Jason, you can do it!"
I heard Matt say as he stood on the jetty. I hadn't even noticed how close we were,
only about seven feet left to go.
And, as we made our way to safety I realized something incredible: I was
no longer afraid. That absence of fear was a moment of triumph!
Matt jumped into the water. I tossed the boy to him. Just as I let go,
a big wave picked him up and carried him all the way to Matt.
On the brink of collapse, I stopped fighting, just letting myself go.
My hand hit the jetty. It was like an electric shock that brought me back to my senses.
Someone grabbed for me.
I felt strong arms lift me. I ascended not only from the sea onto
the secure rocks of the jetty – but also to my salvation,
leaving behind the terrible fear that had gripped me for so long.
I turned my head and saw the boy was hugged tightly by his mother.
I looked out to the sea. Weary as I was, the water had never looked so beautiful.