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Suddenly, a hand grips her by her braid, unbalancingher, making her fall forward under his control. She feels wood… a stump?… infront of her. He is laying her head against it, flipping the braid forward. Suddenly, she knows She panics. Nude in the woods, no one else knowing whereshe was. She was bound, bent over a wooden stump, hair pulled away from herneck. Primal terror fills her, unintelligible wails begging him to releaseher. She thrashes but is unable to move herself away; his strength keeps herdown in her helpless position. Finally, she dissolves into a puddle of weepingflesh, bent over and unmoving, sobs filling the thicket. Her blindfold is soakedwith her tears as she knows she is completely at his mercy. A weight is pressed against her back; focussing on the unfamiliar sensation,her disoriented mind tries to decipher what it is. The terror-filled chaosof her mind clears long enough to understand what he is pressing against herback and bound arms. It is an axe. Once he. I had discovered already that I simply wasn't designed physically or mentally to be a participant in what nonswimmers regarded as "real" sports, like football or basketball. You had to force yourself to become a cog in a machine and that wasn't for me.Swimming and track, though, where you did most of your practicing alone, were a different kind of athletics. Competing against other individuals, head-to-head, or against your own previous best effort, was much more enjoyable. At least, it suited me and it seemed to suit Alex, and we both became steady performers in both sports.To our coaches, people like us were the "backbones of the team": not many First Place ribbons, but always well up in the standings. Neither Alex nor I would ever qualify for a college athletic scholarship -- I think we simply lacked the bloodlust that level of competitiveness demands -- but neither would we embarrass ourselves or our teams.Rather than the bulging calves and linebacker's shoulders that many.
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