When I started writing this column three years ago, I was embarrassed. I was going into sophomore year of college and not a lot of people knew I wanted to pursue writing and journalism yet. I felt underqualified to be writing in a newspaper, and I doubted people wanted to hear what I had to say.
Since then, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I love writing and lifeguarding. And one of the greatest lessons this column has taught me is how silly it is to be embarrassed about enjoying things.
When I first started writing the column, I was nervous to write about anything other than weather conditions, underwhelming rescue stories, and regular happenings in the lifeguard world. Over the years, my writing skills have (hopefully) improved, my confidence has grown, and I’ve tackled subjects I had never originally set out to write about. I’ve been frustrated by the beach, happy with it, sad to leave it, counting down the minutes to get off of it, and everything in between.
But the good has far outweighed the bad.
Lifeguarding has given me the opportunity to work alongside many of my best friends and introduced me to some of them in the first place.
I’ve had incredible amounts of fun yet witnessed terrible tragedies. I’ve saved many lives (courtesy of Beach 97th Street), I’ve gotten into dozens of arguments with beachgoers, I’ve perfected the ropes and poles barriers around my chair, and I’ve even learned how to say “the rip current here is very strong and dangerous, so you can’t swim here,” in Spanish. I think I’ve felt every emotion humanly possible on the beach.
Someone once told me it was “a problem” that my coworkers were my friends, because they believed friendship distracted us from doing our jobs. What this person failed to see, I think, is the level of trust necessary to work seamlessly in a high-stress, high-risk environment like lifeguarding. Friendship doesn’t distract from that trust; in my experience, it strengthens it.
And whenever I’ve been involved in a difficult case, whether it be on the jetty, in rough waters, or any other type of emergency, I’ve been calmer, faster, and more efficient when I know the person coming in behind me has my back.
It’s a special bond to share. If my chair partner goes in for a case, I know if I need to go with them from the look on their face. When I hear a whistle from the chair next to me, I know who it is without looking.
When I first started lifeguarding, I remember telling my Dad I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go to a busy beach. If only that version of me could see what a typical Saturday on 97 looks like now. It truly is a gift to be able to save a life, and I feel very lucky to have been able to do it so often. But I feel just as lucky for everything that came with it: the friendships, the crazy stories, the memories, and three years of having a place to write about all of it.
While I can’t promise I’ll be reporting from the beach again next summer, I can promise you haven’t seen the last of me in these pages. But whatever next summer holds, the “Day in the Life(guard)” will always have a special place in my heart, as will the job that inspired it.
