It was a beautiful early Sunday morning. The sky looked like a canvas painted with hues of pastel pink and blue, with clouds scattered around it, while the cool breeze sent chills down my spine. It looked absolutely amazing.

I reached the rowing boat club with my father, just like every other Sunday morning. It had become our routine and, without it, Sunday mornings felt incomplete. It was a part of our day that we both truly enjoyed, especially with each other.

I was wearing my pink gym T-shirt with black sweatpants and Crocs, with a bag on my back containing all the essentials I needed, ready for another great rowing session.

My coaches and about four members of my team were already there on the shore and had started training. I put down my bag and went towards my coach to learn the training assigned for that day. Surprisingly, it was just 300 metres, which I knew I would complete in no time.

My coach assigned me to a single scull parked right next to the shore. It felt almost as if the boat was inviting me towards it, calling my name. It also looked very similar to the one I usually rowed in, so I did not give it a second thought and strolled directly towards it, my ambition to complete that day’s training bursting in my heart.

After doing some warm-up exercises next to the boat, I nodded to my dad, who was watching me from not too far away, and hopped onto the boat. I adjusted my blade and slid my feet into the rowing shoes bolted to the foot stretcher, tightening the straps around my feet and securing myself on the boat just like I always did.

Pushing myself off the pontoon, I began my first strokes. The water was crystal clear, reflecting my face. I was absolutely thrilled. I felt that familiar urge in my body, telling me to pick up the pace and, without reconsidering, prepared for a power stroke. I pushed my seat up to the catch, compressed my legs and buried the blades into the water. With all the strength in my body, I drove my legs down, pushing against the foot stretcher to propel the boat forward.

Suddenly, I heard a loud crack. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The footboard and the hull had completely broken apart under the pressure of my power stroke.

Without my feet resisting against the footboard, my leg shot into the space. The violent shift caused me to lose my balance as the boat tilted towards the left. Time seemed to slow down, yet everything was happening so quickly that I had no time to process it.

The mesmerising view of the pink and blue horizon changed to cold navy-blue water hitting my body with great force, making me feel as if it was piercing through me. I knew how to swim, yet my arms refused to move.

Suddenly, reality hit me as adrenaline shot through my body and panic washed over me. I realised that I was submerged in the icy water, unable to move because my feet were still strapped into the footboard. The calmness and excitement had been replaced by terror and anxiety. My heart pounded as I struggled to get the straps off my feet. I was almost ready to give up, feeling like there was no way out. I felt as if every last bit of strength had been sucked out of me.

Then I thought of my dad, waiting on the shore with fear and panic. I remembered how much he and my entire family loved me and how much they had supported me throughout all my decisions, even when they were unsure. A new strength rose in me and I fought one more time to get the straps off my feet with sheer willpower. My fingers were numb and shaking because of the cold.

Finally, I yanked the straps off my feet and I was free. I kicked hard and burst through the surface of the water, desperately gasping for air. I coughed violently, my chest heaving, when I heard my dad screaming my name. He was swimming towards my boat, his face extremely pale, with an expression of terror I had never seen before. Behind him, a bunch of safety guards were looking for me in the water.

Even though my lungs hurt terribly, I managed to get out the words, “I am here.”

With every last bit of strength in me, I swam towards my dad, who wrapped his arms around me as tightly as he could, relief washing over him. He brought me towards the shore and wrapped a heavy blanket around my shivering shoulders. The adrenaline began to fade, leaving me completely numb.

The boat was upside down in the water, looking completely wrecked. As the lifeguards pulled it out of the water, I realised a terrifying truth: a single broken bolt could turn a perfect, peaceful Sunday morning into a fight for my life.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 12th, 2026