The Exercise, It Is Good

Note to self: Exercise is not an option, it is a requirement. When you have an endorphin addiction, you go slightly crazy when you don't get them regularly. Remember  this.

Overdone

I might've overdone it a little this week on the exercise. On Tuesday, I ran 5 miles. Last night, I ran 3 more miles at a fairly rapid pace. Then I played a singles match against a junior player who kicked my ass all OVER the court. This morning? I hurt. You'd think I would know better than to run before playing singles, but sometimes I'm not so smart.

The best part of this? I have another tennis match in an hour. At least this one is just doubles, thank god. I'm not sure I'd survive another singles match.

Slow Mover

I've got a 14 miler on my schedule this weekend. I really REALLY don't wanna do it today, but I have a window of about 4 hours this morning / afternoon where it needs to happen. After that, it won't happen (see: rain and cold starting later tonight). So I'm trying to psych myself up for it.

On a different front, the yearly ratings for tennis came out this past week. I was bumped from a 4.5 to a 5.0 this year, and I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, yay that I'm still getting better. On the other, though, I lose the big group of people I've been playing with the last few years and graduate into a much smaller group of folks. There isn't as much tennis at the 5.0 level, and I'm not very good about drumming up matches and practicing on my own.

So it looks like I'll be focusing on my running for the foreseeable future. I guess that's ok, but I'll miss some of the camaraderie and competitiveness that came with my tennis league in the spring. But who knows. Maybe I'll end up finally running a marathon this year...we'll see. First, I have to get this 14 miler out of the way though. Joy.

Wow.

It has been a LONG time since I've been this sore. More specifically, since my legs have been this sore. My quads are killing me tonight. My regular doubles game tonight was an exercise in how to move as little as possible and still lose a match.

I guess I ran a lot harder than I thought on Monday, I just didn't realize it. I've been running without my heart rate strap lately, which is usually a pretty good gauge of how much effort I'm putting into a run. I thought I didn't really 'need' a heart rate monitor to tell me how much effort I was putting into a run, but now I'm thinking I might be wrong. Well, my legs are telling me I'm wrong anyway.

So next long run, I guess I'll go back to the heart rate strap and try to keep my heart rate down while I run. Dammit. Maybe by the time I do my next long run, it won't be 80 friggin' degrees.  Grrrr.

Singles! Yay!

This afternoon, I played singles for the first time since July 30th (but who's counting). I've been avoiding playing singles out of respect for the wrist, but it seems to have just about healed, so I gave it a shot.

It was also the first time I've practiced against a lady I lost to much earlier this season. In fact, you might say I had a bit of a vendetta out for her today. She was the only person I lost to in singles this season.

Sidenote: I did lose one other singles match, but the lady I lost to was disqualified and bumped up to the next level soon after our match, so I'm not counting it as a loss because the league didn't count it as a loss. But I'll fight just as hard next time I play her.  Heh heh.

Anyway. The lady I played today was involved in some pretty heavy duty conflict during the league season, and my teammates had told me after I lost to her that she'd given me some rough line calls. Whatever.

But what had really sealed the deal for me was when her husband came unglued during one of her matches against a teammate of mine Bear in mind that he is in charge of one of the tennis clubs around here, so his public behavior reflects on both his teaching style, and the club itself. He behaved like a 5 year old during her match, and I've had a sort of sour taste in my mouth about both of them since then. I mean, for God's sake. It's a tennis match, and there's not any money on the line! You don't throw a loud, obnoxious temper tantrum, pout, and stalk off during your wife's league tennis match. Twice. Sheesh.

So. I haven't had much interaction with her since then, but she's a very good singles player and when she texted me about playing, I figured it'd be a good way to get out there and play some singles.

You might say it went pretty well for me - I won 6-1, 6-1. We also played a 10 point tiebreaker, which she won 10-7, but damn. It felt good to unload after that loss earlier this season. No, this one doesn't count for anything, but I was still happy about the results. She picked it up in the tiebreaker, so I have no doubt that any real match would be a LOT closer than the first two sets.

And it was nice to actually talk to her. She's a runner, too, so you know we had to talk about that - she's run about 8 marathons, so I'm at a bit of a disadvantage there! She's tall, athletic, and seems perfectly nice off the court. I have to wonder why so many of these good tennis players are tall. I swear I play in a land of giants sometimes. She also had the opportunity to make some catty comments about one of my teammates, and she totally let it slide, which I thought was classy of her.

So. A good singles match and some good conversation made for a nice afternoon. Now it's about time to get the kiddos and let chaos descend for the rest of the evening. Happy Thursday!

Interconnected

I played my morning mixed doubles match today with a new partner. Although we've only said hi a few times, I remember him from junior tennis some 20 years ago. Of course, he looks a little different now, but who doesn't...

Anyway, after our match, we trekked off the court and I noticed him talking to another tallish individual on the sidelines. After a moment, I realized I also knew the tall guy - it was B's coach from baseball this season. In a bit, the coach's wife showed up and we chatted for a bit about how she had seen my mom yesterday up at the kiddos' school. Funny enough, that family lives about a block away from us in Maumelle.

And, as it turns out, the guy I played against this afternoon is the new husband of a lady I play against fairly regularly, another person I remember from junior tennis. I had forgotten how insular this little area of the world is.

We've been here, back in Arkansas, for about three years. I had forgotten how interconnected everything can be here. Everyone really does know everyone else. It helps explains a phenomena I noticed when I first started playing tennis here.

At the first "big" tournament I played in here in Little Rock, I was amazed at how folks were greeting each other with hugs and warm regards, regardless of team or level. Everyone really DID know everyone else, which was a stark contrast to Houston tennis, where things were a bit less warm and fuzzy. It honestly made me a bit uncomfortable at first. This was supposed to be competition, dammit!

But the tennis community (hell, every community) is smaller here, and very interconnected. Which seems to make it less likely for folks to hold long term grudges. Don't get me wrong, there are still folks who rub others the wrong way, there are still clashes and conflicts and things that go on behind the scenes. But it makes more sense to at least try to get along with others here and put things behind you, because it's almost guaranteed you will see that person again. And it's quite possible that you may end up on a team with them at some point.

Anyway, it just amused me how interconnected my world was today. I can only imagine how much more I will see that when I get my ass back to work one of these days.

Sigh.

So J got a ticket to the Razorback game tonight from a good friend; they are headed to Fayetteville as I type this. I was gonna tag along and tailgate with friends while they were at the game, but I had already committed to a tennis match, and I couldn't get out of it without being a seriously bad team player.

Sigh. Sometimes honoring your commitments sucks. I totally wanted to go up there this afternoon, but it's not happening. So instead, I'm thinking this might be my night:

Match at 5:00.
Pick up kiddos from my parents afterwards, get them to bed.
Listen to Razorback game on the radio and be jealous.
Maybe a nice long soak in the tub, with a book and a glass of wine.
Maybe bake some cookies.
Maybe even watch a movie (gasp! yes, me!).
Try not to do a repeat of last night's 2:30am bedtime.

And then think of something fun to do with the kiddos in the morning and figure out what the next week holds for us. I also need to get a long run in tomorrow, 7-8 miles. Need to figure out how to make that happen...

Wrist Shenanigans

Dx for wrist issue: partially torn tendon. Rx: 4 weeks rest, brace, anti-inflammatories. But I can still play tennis (albeit with the crappy one handed slice), and do pretty much anything else as long as I'm careful and keep my left hand out of the action. At the end of four weeks, we'll try the tennis thing again with a two handed backhand and see where we are. Fingers crossed that it has healed significantly by then, but even if it hasn't, that's ok. Thank god I'm not left handed.

As far as injuries go, this one is just fine with me. No restricted activities other than a two handed backhand. And that's much better than me moaning and complaining for the next 9 months that I can't run or exercise. Believe me, no one wants that.

$%##@#%

Well, dammit.

The wrist has not healed. Three backhands into warmup last night, my left wrist was screaming bloody murder, even though I've done nothing with it since I injured it nearly three weeks ago. Dammit. Time to go see the doc, I suppose. Crap crap crap. It's nicely swollen again this morning and hurts to move. Back to advil and wrapping it; doc's appt next Thursday. Dammit dammit dammit.

On the plus side, my mixed partner played the backhand side terrifically well last night, I played forehand decently, and we managed to pull out a win even with my crappy, ineffective one-handed backhand slice.

I also remembered one of the reasons I do NOT enjoy mixed doubles - male egos and attitudes. Sorry to generalize, guys, but it's usually the males that make these matches difficult. I can remember lots of male temper tantrums on the court, but very few (if any?) female temper tantrums during mixed doubles matches. I've damn near walked off the court on my own partner when he was being too much of a dick. I'm NOT saying they are all like that - the partner I'm playing with now is awesome. But the few that are pains? Are serious pains. Lucky me, we played one of those last night. Joy.

I've played a lot of matches this year, and I don't remember verbally questioning a single call. It's just not that big a deal to me most of the time, and the match shouldn't hang on one point; one bad call should not change the outcome. But last night? Holy shit. The dude on the other side called one of my shots out (in the middle of a tense game, at deuce) that was oh-so-clearly on the line and in. Serious jackass.  I questioned it and he completely ignored me. Obviously he wasn't going to change his call, but from his behavior, he knew he'd made a shitty call. Not that he was going to change the call or anything - that'd have too much sportsmanship to it. So yeah, an obviously crappy call, after my partner and I had been overly generous with our calls throughout the match. This guy had even complimented a call I made early on, where I SHOULD have called a ball out but it was just too close to feel ok calling it out. Really dude? Really? This is repayment?

I think he just got tired of me making him look bad. I'd passed him while he was at the net more than once, and he couldn't win a point off my serve to save his life. So maybe he just didn't want to get passed yet again. Whatever. My partner and I won, crappy call and all. That's always the best revenge.

Random Activity

Three mile run today, treadmill style. The first mile was slow (treadmills are always slow to start), so it probably ended up being around an 11:30 pace. But the last two were at a 9:30 pace, which I'm quite happy with. I'm shooting for a six miler this weekend, we'll see if that happens.

More on the exercise front, I've got tennis tomorrow night, a couple of mixed doubles matches. I have literally no idea how that is going to go. I haven't touched a tennis racket since Mobile over two weeks ago, and my wrist still bugs me here and there. It's possible that I could get on the court and not be able to hit a backhand. If that's the case, I sure hope my partner (who I have yet to meet) can play the backhand side!

I also broke out the guitar tonight for about 45 minutes. I hate to admit how long it's been since I picked it up, but I apparently needed a break. I promised myself that once the traveling was done, I'd get back to it, and I thoroughly enjoyed playing tonight. I still had a surprising amount of muscle memory (surprising to me anyway), and despite the lack of appearance of callouses, my fingers didn't kill too badly. I have no idea how musicians manage to play and sing at the same time. I mean, I'm sure it's second nature to them (just as a forehand or a serve is to me), but it seems like an amazing feat to a beginner.

Anyway, not too much else going on today. Pretty quiet day, I'm starting to feel recovered from all the traveling, thank God. At some point I'm gonna have to answer the question of "what's next." But I'm not ready for that yet. I'm gonna bury my head in the sand for a bit longer...

Overheating

So at the beginning of this tennis shindig, I had a vague wondering about when my age would start to become a factor in my tennis matches. A lot of the singles players are probably still in the early 20s, and some younger than that. And while I don't yet FEEL older than early 20s, I'm absolutely in my mid 30s. And many of the other singles players are not.

So Thursday, I played two matches. Both were pretty easy, and I won them pretty quickly, but I was still on the court for at least 3 hours that day, with heat at or above 100F.

On Friday morning, I played a 9:30 match against the other team's best singles player. We started the match out probably in about 85 degree heat, and I knocked out the first set pretty quickly. The second set, however, was long and painful with some crazy intense points. I was icing between games (wiping ice everywhere I could), dumping ice water over my head, back, and shoulders, and drinking water and Gatorade the whole time. The temperature was over 100 by the second set, and you could FEEL the sun.

Towards the end of the second set, I was so focused on winning the match that I think I must've not been cooling as much as I should have. The last game took probably 20 minutes, and she staved off probably 10 match points before I finally closed out the match. It was a great win, but I paid the price for it.

As I was gathering my rackets and water after we finished (the match lasted over 2.5 hours), I noticed that my hands and legs were shaking really hard, and I was having a hard time making them do what they needed to do. That has never happened to me before, and I started to wonder if maybe I wasn't hotter than I realized. After I reported my score and sat down with my team to watch another match, I started to feel really really bad. I felt like I was going to pass out and throw up at the same time - not a good feeling. I had a friend walk with me to air conditioning, where I sat coating myself in ice for about 15 minutes. That helped marginally, but I still very bad. Eventually I wandered over the medic tent to have my vitals taken and make sure everything was ok (it was). An hour or so later, I finally felt normal, but the whole experience was really frightening and humbling.

The scariest part about it was the fact that I didn't even feel it coming on. I tend to check in with my systems (heart rate, breathing patterns, muscle cramps, etc.) when I'm on the court in hot weather, and I think I was doing that on Friday. I was well hydrated (even when I felt the worst), fine on nutrition, never had a single muscle cramp, and was doing everything right. I've played in the hot summer heat nearly my entire life and never had an issue. I've played longer matches than that, although I probably haven't played in any heat worse than that. And I still could easily have stayed out there and gotten into serious trouble without even realizing it. I was very lucky the match ended when it did.

And the real kicker was that the match didn't really matter much - my team lost every other match we played that day. Dammit. And insult to injury? In the match I played on Saturday (and I played it VERY carefully mind you), I think I tore a tendon in my wrist on a backhand towards the end of the match. Right after I'd found out that we were definitely out of contention for the finals.

Oh well. I've been saying I was going to hang up the rackets for a few months after all this is over. Guess I really get to do that now, seeing as my wrist hurts like hell and I couldn't hit a two handed backhand to save my life. On the bright side (because there always has to be a bright side), it's just my wrist and not a leg, knee, or foot. So I can still run. And I did just that this morning - 4 miles in Gulf Shores heat. Hello marathon season, nice to see you again. I personally don't want to look at my tennis rackets for a LONG LONG time.

Hotter 'n Hell

Wow. Just wow.

My team played at 9:30 this morning. By the time we finished, it was over 100 degrees outside. But the worst part about this? We have another match at 3:00 this afternoon. Holy hell.

I played singles this morning, and won pretty easily. My reward for a fast match (under an hour) is that I also get to play the match at 3:00. Somehow, I'm not feeling very rewarded.

But, on the plus side, we won our first match. It's a miserable feeling to go to sectionals and lose right off the bat - it sorts of negates a lot of hard work that went into the season. We play 5 matches for each team match, 2 singles and 3 doubles. The doubles team that won the match for us was on the court for nearly 3 hours.

And you listen to the weather folks and the news talk about the dangerous heat and the nasty conditions, and you wonder why the hell they play these damn tournaments in the summer. In-freaking-sane.

So. First, keep your fingers crossed none of us ends up at the ER. And second, keep your fingers crossed we win again this afternoon. It would be awfully nice to make a trip to Phoenix for nationals later this year - if we can just keep winning...

Confidence? Who Needs That?

I played a great doubles match this morning. One of the total luxuries of not working means I get to play tennis during the day. It's the ultimate guilty pleasure - I get my exercise on while the sun is still up with a bunch of fun folks. And to make things even better? I remembered how to serve a ball in the damn service box. It will be a long time before I take that for granted again.

Lemme explain.

The movements associated with the sport are motions my body is completely at home with -  quick side to side movements, explosive forward and back sprints, service motion, forehands - they are all very much a rhythm in my life.

Generally speaking, there are things that go wrong with every tennis game from time to time, even with the best players. If you don't play for a while, your timing is off. Sometimes your grip gets slightly too far one way or another, and things go badly for a while. Sometimes you forget how much topspin you need. And sometimes? Your confidence takes a nosedive and manifests it in a very frustrating way.

It has been several years since I've had an issue with confidence, but apparently there was a worm of doubt that managed to infiltrate my game and manifested itself with a completely defunct serve. I know it started several weeks ago, and I know it went into full bloom during the first match I played with one of the junior players. I haven't double faulted so much since I was a teenager. Nor have I wanted to throw my racket quite as much since I was a teenager. I (mostly) refrained.

So when it first went out, my first thought was to look at my mechanics. I broke everything down, thought about the process of serving, tried out various things - sometimes something would work, but usually only for a game or two. The more I thought about it, the more irritated and frustrated I got. It wasn't the toss. It wasn't the swing. It wasn't my grip. It wasn't my spin.

In the beginning, it might have been mechanics. But by the time I finished screwing around with everything, it was 100% confidence. I was afraid to go after the ball, I was scared of the serve, and I was incredibly frustrated. And the only thing to do with something like that is to work through it and bring it back around. I knew it was confidence because I would serve just fine in warmups, and completely break down in the match. I've played this stupid game since I was 12 years old. This shit should not happen.

Last week during a doubles match, I finally gave up. My only goal was to serve the ball in the right square with just enough pace to get the ball over the net. Funny enough, that might have done the trick. I started getting a few more serves in, even though they looked terrible and my opponents ate them up for lunch. My doubles partner wasn't thrilled with that, but at least they were going in, as opposed to just donating points.

Towards the end of that match, I found the rhythm to the serve that had been missing. I could feel what I had been doing wrong, and it was all about not having enough confidence to hit out on the ball. It wasn't mechanics. Just a stupid lack of confidence.

Today, after a week off, I finally felt normal again. I was popping serves with my normal rhythm, making shots, and I felt 100% at home again on the court. Funny how much you miss that feeling when it disappears. It was a good reminder that no matter how long you've been playing, you are never immune to a drop in confidence or a complete collapse of a shot. I enjoyed every. damn. serve. I hit today. It's a lot more fun when they actually go in.

Tired

Good lord I'm tired. I've done some pretty heavy duty workouts the last 5 days straight (either a run or a tennis match), and that doesn't include any "extras" like playing at the pool with the kiddos, housework, yard work, and any other activity that came along.

Last night, I played a singles match against a local junior who is preparing for southerns. If you aren't familiar with junior tennis, southerns is THE tournament that your entire year revolves around if you play in the south. She is headed to Rome, Georgia tomorrow for this tournament, and was trying to get some last minute match play in.

Talking to her about southerns made me feel so incredibly happy to be past that point in my tennis career. Your entire spring and summer in juniors revolve around preparing for this tournament. There is a TON of pressure to do well, and a lot of logistics and work that go into it. For me, Southerns meant a long-ass driving trip, and a lot of sacrificing on my family's part. Please to ignore the fact that I never did very well, either.

My team will go to sectionals (the old folks' equivalent of the juniors' southerns) in July. And can I just say how much I prefer the team atmosphere and the camaraderie that comes with team tennis? Not that camaraderie didn't exist in juniors, but it's a bit different. There is still pressure to play well, to get ready for the heat, to not let the team down. But it's not just about one person - it's about the team. And it's not just about tennistennistennis in my life for 3 months leading up to it - it's still about kiddos and traveling and summer and life. And a little tennis thrown in.

And, more immediately, it's about a trip to Vegas this weekend. With ten other folks, some of whom I know well, some of whom I've never met. I'm fairly certain there will be some excellent shenanigans and stories to come out of this trip. Vegas usually incites those types of things, not that I'd know anything about that. I may try to post tomorrow, but if not...see you on the flip side. Vegas, baby.

Icing on the Weekend Cake

The icing on the weekend of frustration? I managed to pull a muscle in my ass. Now I'm hobbling around like I'm 100 years old. Fan-freaking-tastic. I guess it's better than the last time I pulled a muscle like this, though. I was 9 months pregnant and apparently rolled over in bed the wrong way. It sounds a lot better to say I pulled an ass muscle playing tennis, as opposed to rolling over in bed.

Drama and Alabama

I hate drama.

There was far too much drama this weekend in my life, and most of it wasn't even mine!

My tennis team played in our state tournament this weekend, so I guess it's to be expected. Nerves and emotions were running high, the rain totally fucked up any semblance of a schedule, and the weekend was just a mess. I'm really kinda glad it's over.

So, in bullets:

• Saturday morning: our 8am match, which I was not supposed to play in, was delayed by nearly 2 hours. I went out to the courts in full tennis garb with rackets anyway, for a couple of reasons. One, the other team wouldn't know which one of our singles players would be playing if we had three or four singles players show up ready to play; two, you never know what might happen at the last minute; and three, I could help warm up the folks who were playing and cheer them on during matches. 
  
  There was a curly shuffle of the lineup that morning, and for about 2 hours I was going to sub in for a singles player who was not feeling well. After sitting around for 2 hours waiting for the courts to dry, though, she felt well enough play. So mentally, my brain wasn't really sure what to think, 'cause playing that match would've easily meant two long hours (if not more) of intense tennis. I'm playing, time to get serious! Wait, no I'm not! Wait, yes I am! Wait, no, I'm not! That's draining.
 
• One of the matches Saturday morning was an absolute catfight match from hell. One of our singles opponents (call her Sue) has only been in the LR area since last fall, but she's already garnered a reputation for bad line calls and a generally bad attitude. I would have loved a chance to play her this weekend, but the stars did not align properly and another singles player on our team played her. And honestly, after watch the way that match unfolded? I'm VERY happy to have not played her, and even happier that this chick is not on our team.
  
  There were accusations thrown, bad line calls, nasty behavior, and it was unfortunately on both sides of the court, which just sucks. One of the funnier episodes, though, occurred when Sue started yelling at some random bystanders behind the court because they were "talking too loudly." Now, I was sitting back there watching the match, and they weren't being loud. In fact, I hadn't really even noticed them until S started coming unglued. But what was even better was when one of the the bystanders fired back with the comment: "You're just yelling at us because you're frustrated with your game. If I were playing that badly and were losing with that score? I'd be frustrated too. Maybe you should pay more attention to your game rather than us back here." It. Was. Awesome. It was all I could do not to crack up, because this bystander had no stake in the match, she wasn't on either of our teams, she just called it like she saw it. And what she said was true. If you are truly focused on the match, you won't hear anything going on around you. But if you are frustrated and having trouble? That will bug the shit out of you. Maybe I was more focused on her match than she was...
  
  At any rate, that was one of about 10 different conflicts that happened just during that one match. By the end of the match, a grievance was filed, a line judge was called, both teams were wrung out and the players looked like they were going to have to be physically separated. On the plus side, that individual match meant nothing because my team had already won three of the five matches. But that match wasn't about the tournament anymore; it was about pride. And it was ugly
 
• So after the match was over, I managed to tick J off ten minutes before he left town for the night with the girl to go to our nephew's birthday party in Jonesboro. There was no time to resolve anything, so I got to stew on that after he left. B stayed home because he was sick, and my team still had another match to play in the afternoon. I managed to miss a text from my captain (it never went through) about a court location change, so I had to haul ass from a Little Rock tennis venue to a North Little Rock venue in under 15 minutes in order not to get defaulted from the match or pulled from the lineup. I left a bunch of rubber on the highways between Rebsamen and Burns, and was damned lucky there weren't any cops out.
  
  By the time my match started, I was as far away from finding a zone as I could possibly be. I ended up winning, but it was an ugly match that started ok and just got more frustrating as the match went on. I was just wrung out from the day. All done, thankyouverymuch.
 
• There were a bunch of other little things that happened over the course of the weekend. People who got their feelings hurt, miscommunications, more rain, and more frustration, and then cookies and beer. In the end, if you're still reading, my team managed to eke out a win for the tournament. We won by four games. Yes, that's GAMES, not sets, not matches, GAMES. It came down to counting games lost between our team and one other team to determine who gets to go to sectionals in July. We lost four fewer games (everything else was tied) than they did.
• Mobile bound, baby. See you in July. We'll bring the rackets and drama, you bring the heat and humidity. And I have a good excuse to keep exercising for the next few months.

18 Years

A few weeks ago, I did a tennis drill with a pro and some women on my tennis team at a club in Little Rock. Drills typically involve hitting a million and one balls at the same time you are running your ass off. They will wear you out.

The day of the drill, I had a pretty good outing and was able to demonstrate that I knew a little about handling a tennis racket. At the end of the drill, the pro asked me if I'd be interested in hitting with any of his junior players.

Now, I played junior tennis. I know what it means to be "the old one." I played a few of them when I was a junior, and it was always awkward and strange. We never had much in common, and they were never as serious and always talked about how much "older" they were or how they couldn't do this or that because of their age. It was uncomfortable. They never hit very hard, either.

So these were the thoughts that ran through my head a split second before I told the pro, "Sure! I'd love to!" And I meant it, even though I would now be "the old one". The difference between club or league tennis and junior tennis is that the juniors hit the shit out of the ball, and club players get the ball back one more time, sometimes with no pace at all. I played enough junior tennis that I still love to hit hard, but I don't get the opportunity as much anymore, so I jumped on the chance.

Last night, I played one of the pro's juniors. I was hoping I could sort of skirt the age issue and approach it as just two people who enjoy playing tennis. No dice. When I got to the club, the pro and the junior I was to play were hanging out in the clubhouse with a bunch of other junior players.  The pro grabbed my racket, held it up, and made the comment to D, the junior, "if you lose today, it will be the oldest racket you've ever lost to." Greeeat. So much for not bringing age v. youth into it. We can ignore the fact that my racket is damn near as old as she is. It's a great racket.

After this little moment, we hit the court to play a few sets. We chatted very little beforehand, mostly about the Foo Fighters concert she was going to last night. At least I wasn't totally clueless about that, even though I am more than twice her age. Sheesh. When did I get so old. What made it even worse was when I asked her if she had had a group lesson or something earlier, and she responded "no, but I did have a private lesson earlier and worked out at D1 already." So I was her third workout of the day.  Good lord, did I really have that much energy 18 years ago?

But once we started hitting, I felt a lot better. My groundstrokes were as solid as hers, although I wasn't generating quite as much power. Her serve was hard as hell, but inconsistent. We fought pretty hard the first set, and I managed to take it 7-5. I completely lost my serve and mental state the second set and lost 6-2. But I got a set, and I don't think it was a complete embarrassment.

After I got home last night, I started wondering where she was ranked in the state in terms of junior players. It's been so long since I've played, I had no idea where she might fall. As it turns out? She appears to be ranked #2 in 18yo girls in the state. Once upon a time, 18 years ago, that was me. Nice to know all the work back then is still paying off today. Even if I do have some gray hair, a couple of kids, and a markedly decreased endurance level. I'm pretty damn happy to have scored a set. And maybe slightly sore...

Weekend Amusements

So, a couple of amusements in the last few days.

• I played tennis one night last week at the Athletic Club in Little Rock. The courts are surrounded by honeysuckle, which smells heavenly right now. Every now and then, the fragrance would drift on to the court, and I'd feel like I was playing in Hawaii, where everything smells incredible. I was amazed that I was the first one to comment on the wonderful smell, and no one else had noticed it before I mentioned it. What gives, ya'll? It was incredible out there!
• So this same doubles match involved me and another lady who is about my age, and two other women who are probably in their 50s. One of the older ladies was doing us quite the favor, as she was usually well into her nightly glass of wine by the time we played that evening. I commiserated.
  
  The second older lady, a tall brunette in full makeup and perfect hair, is one of those women who epitomizes the sassy southern woman. The perfect combination of sweetness and smartass, with the amazing southern drawl that only someone who lives here can appreciate. Her voice usually precedes her presence on the court, so you know when she's coming. She's unapologetic about her voice, cussing, and pretty much anything else. That's just who she is, and she's hilarious.
  
  Late in the match, I was trying to buckle down and serve out a game. I'd struggled a little during the match, mainly because I wasn't as focused as I should have been. It was just a practice after all, but I needed to bring my game back around. So I settled in for the first point, served a nice serve to the tall brunette and won the point. As I gathered the balls for the next point, I could hear her across the court talking to herself, expressing frustration with the previous point.  I was getting set up to serve the next point as she continued her tirade against her missed service return, and she capped it off with a fabulously drawled, self directed "yeww dumbahhss."
  
  I proceeded to double fault the next two points as I was laughing too hard to pull my shit back together. I love playing tennis in the south, and I love these women. I've never had so much fun playing matches.
• Outside of the tennis front, J and I went to a crawfish boil this weekend up in Bentonville. It was friggin' COLD. Fortunately, there were lots of warming beverages, a fire pit, and interesting people. I got to watch my first game of beer pong - guess I can chalk that one up to one of life's experiences? No, I didn't play. I wasn't looking for a hangover this weekend, and I don't particularly care for beer, so it wasn't really worth it. But I can now say I at least know what the damn game is. And it was amusing as hell to watch all these folks from their early 20s through mid 50s playing drinking games. Guess there's no such thing as a moratorium on the craziness of youth? 
  
  Being back in NWA always makes me nostalgic for college days. It's so beautiful up there, life is a bit slower, and people seem a bit less reserved. We have many friends up in that area, and sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to be living up there. Life won't be slow, no matter where we are. With two kiddos and (usually) two working parents, there's no such thing as a slow life, not to mention the kiddos are quite attached to their grandparents.
  
  But with sunsets over the mountains, watching the moonlight coming up in the trees around a firepit, good friends, and what at least looks like a more grounded lifestyle, it's hard not to feel the pull to be up there.

Boring is Sometimes Good...

Yeah, last night got sorta interesting after all - I got to do something I've never done before. 

I was playing doubles at a club in Little Rock when the tornado sirens started going off all around us. My initial response when I hear the sirens is to glue myself to the television set (if I'm not already there) and figure out what's going on. The women I was playing doubles with? Had very different ideas about what to do.

They just kept playing.

Wha...?

Really? 

Apparently someone from the club would have come and told us if things were bad enough that we needed to go to a safer place. So we kept playing. I was serving during the wailing of the sirens, and was so distracted I didn't even notice when my partner and I won the game without losing a point.  She looked at me and said "you didn't miss a first serve that entire game." 

Now, I know that I play better when I take my brain out of the game. The brain is a mortal enemy on the court - it puts doubts in your head, causes you to tighten up, and generally screws up your match. I know this very well.

But really, tornado sirens???

Maybe instead of trying to concentrate on a song during my matches (I do that to keep my brain occupied so it doesn't think), I should try to focus on the sound of tornado sirens. It worked fantastically last night, anyway...

The Running Affair

Saturday morning, we had tball / machine pitch baseball games for both kiddos. At the game last weekend, I noticed one of the moms on Alyssa's team taking tons and tons of pictures. I also noticed that she was wearing what could only be described as running clothes. 

And because misery loves company and because occasionally I think it'd be fun to have a running partner, I asked her about it on Saturday.

Actually, the exact phrase I used was "are you a runner?"

The response I got was one that I would have given a year ago - that she wouldn't call herself a runner, but she runs. I didn't press it any further, and she didn't seem eager to talk about it. 

I mulled that exchange over today during my six miler. Somewhere in the last 6 months or so, I've gone from being semi-embarrassed at calling myself a runner to embracing the title. No, I don't run marathons (yet?), and no, I don't run the ungodly number of miles that some runners cover each week. But I do run, and I've gotten some good experience and a solid baseline, and longer runs don't scare the bejesus out of me like they used to. So I sort of feel "worthy" of calling myself a runner - for the time being, anyway.

I don't think running has quite overtaken tennis as my first love - I still adore winning tough matches and smacking the hell out of a tennis ball. But I no longer think of myself as primarily a tennis player. Hmmm...

Sorry tennis, but I think I may be having an affair. It's not you, it's me - I promise! But try not to worry. All that running around? Can only help me on the court.