commended by a "picker of nits"

Here is my most recent of commonplaces (oh, and my indomitable teacher gave it a "really good." hopefully you can see my smug smile):

Two and a half feet above the pool there is no motion, no sound. Multicolored flags flutter on the horizon. In the still water countless plastic wheels separate the competitors and frame the black line that leads straight ahead.

Crouching down, body bent in half, deliberately forcing the back leg to support thousands of twitching nerve fibers. Waiting. Balancing. One toe off the edge of the rough, cold block, both hands curl around the front grasping for stability. Both legs strain with the anticipation of sudden release. Ears tucked between powerful shoulders, eyes tightly shut, head filled with the refrain of Dynamite steadily pulsing. Chlorine, dry and acrid, burns in the mouth as it fills the lungs with sweltering air. Heart pounding. Muscles tense, almost to the verge of uncontrollable shaking. The pressure of every moment weights heavily and the thoughts, instructions, mental pictures--the training of years--flash by in an instant.

In a moment the buzzer will sound, a light will flash, and a timer will start. In a moment all the restrained energy will explode in a splash of speed. In a moment the race could be won and dreams realized...or, all could be lost.