I anchored the boys' 400y free relay, the last event of the boys meet. There was no special significance to the moment up until that fourth wall was reached. Our relay finished second, as I expected against a team as stacked as the affectionately referred to "Pot Falls"[1]. I turned immediately to lane five, where the clearly victorious team had prevailed, for a quick handshake, a semi-forced handshake, and the obligatory, "nice race!"; standard post-race procedure. I turned to lane three, who our 'A' team mercifully beat after allowing PF to take first and second in our first two relays. This was when I really started to reflect on the fact that I had just finished four years of these dual meets. The first in a line of finalities to come. This time I really smiled.
The pageantry of being a senior had hit earlier during the meet, when the festivities began during the usually inexplicable mid-meet break[2]. Parents started making their way to the opposite end of the pool, where the starting blocks lined up patiently for the next swimmer to use them as they were designed for, or at the very least a timer to rest himself for a moment. Our coach took the microphone and repeated the same annual listing of names, the presentation of a team-oriented bunch of flowers, and the short procession of swimmers across a few tiles that she had overseen seemingly countless years. I waited patiently with my mom (my father was, and is, just about dying of some sort of sickness) near the back, as we watched the entire senior class walk up, flowers in hand. Coach Bev eventually recited the next name to the crowd with a definitive "Jack Morrisroe" and my mother and I walked up, arm in arm to receive the maroon (red) and gold (yellow), pose for a few memory-catching photos, and line up with the other seniors. A final-ish jump off of the thankful blocks figuratively sent us into our post-swimming careers. A nice bit of closure before the closure could begin.
So swimming's done and not done. Last dual meet, sure, but there's still conferences and regionals to worry about, with the outside chance of states hopefully coming into play in the next few weeks. With the constant VHSL realignment through my years in high school, states was never a set thing, but I was able to qualify in some way, shape, or form the past three years. Missing out my senior year would not be the ideal way to go out, but it would be fitting, given my departure from the area's serious competition. But it is something to look forward to, and hope for.
*That ending was bad and I should feel bad, I realize, but hopefully your frustration with the ending draws you into reading my next blog post to see the growth of my writing! Please? Also, as you might know, I finished my trifecta of subsequent blog posts! And then immediately proceeded to skip the next day's writing. Can't say I didn't warn you. But this should still be a regular thing, because it's honestly better than anything else I would be doing this late at night. So stay tuned!
[1] While the rumor around Loudoun County is that Potomac Falls High School got its nickname from the excessive amount of marijuana ingestors, I believe shortening Potomac to Pot was already the natural nickname for the school, with the sophomoric humor of high school twisting it into the joke. Honestly, if any Loudoun high school should be known for smoking pot, it has to be an Ashburn school. There is too much money flowing in these parts to not have a thriving pot industry.
[2] It is actually more of a first-third kind of break, although there's no second-third break (if you do not count the 500 free). Even though the swimmers can not race every event and usually have some sort of break between events, a break is still necessary to slow down the meet. Your guess is as good as mine as to why.
Nice writing, Jack.
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