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            It was a day in late July, and I was driving to work like I always did – windows down, sunglasses on, and still in my workout clothes. As a lifeguard at a beach, I didn’t have to be there until 12 P.M., which meant I had plenty of time to hit the gym before. Iced coffee in hand, it was a day like any other – or so I thought.

            Halfway through my shift, the routine changed. I was standing on the dock, rescue tube hanging off one shoulder, with my feet burning from the hot planks. Today was unusually warm – which meant unusually large crowds. I was squinting through the glare on my sunglasses when I noticed splashing in the shadow of the dock – the one place where the other lifeguards on the beach had no visibility.

            It was at this point that three years of training took over, and my actions for the next few minutes became a total blur. Instinct kicked in, and I threw my Raybans on the ground, kicked off my flipflops, and screamed for backup before I dove in. It took only a few strokes before I reached the struggling swimmer, who at that point was within seconds of going under. Approaching him from behind, I grabbed him under his shoulders and pulled him back so he was supported by my rescue tube. Kicking frantically, it seemed like an eternity before my feet finally touched sand, and I was able to pull him onto the beach.

            This was the only rescue I’ve had to make since I got my lifeguard certification at age 15, and in the grand scheme of saves mine wasn’t very impressive. The victim was still conscious, and when I got him to land was completely recovered. However, my self-confidence spiked knowing that I handled the situation in the best way possible, saving a life in the process.