Octopus At The Net
“I’ve gained weight,” I say, touching my stomach while lamenting to a friend or colleague at work. Instead of confirmation, I almost always hear back, “You’re incredibly fit”. Hah! Fit and flabby, perhaps. There is some merit to my core fit state. My peers at work say this because I show up to work several times a week in athletic clothes. My friends I play sports with say this because I will run for everything, give up nothing, and relentlessly work to improve my game. Competitive sports motivate me to move. I play tennis 3-5 times a week and just recently added pickleball into my routine. I want to be lithe. I willingly subject myself to the worthy pursuit, hoping it will unlock the gates to eternal smoother lines and effortless moves. I squeeze myself into form-fitting spandex, ready to battle gravity and my stubborn flab. I leap, I lunge, I sweat, all in pursuit of an elusive endorphin rush that promises to take me somewhere special. In the same day I might enjoy a Green Machine smoothie, Buddha bowl salad and later after an extended work day, grab some, crispy french fries and juicy burger, consuming first with intention and later convenience, essentially bowing then flipping off to my solemn pact with self-improvement.
And yet, as I drive in the dark to play at 5:30am and run after one more drop shot, reach up to hit a first serve winner and fight through the burning ache, I can't help but wonder: Am I improving my game and body or merely polishing my vanity? Do I play to escape my thoughts or to chase after dreams that perpetually elude me? Perhaps, in my lifelong debate with my physical self, my journey lies not in the inches lost or muscles gained, but in the discovery of my own resilience, my unyielding spirit that refuses to be defined by societal expectations. I play with friends who look like fashion and fitness models as well as others with softer shapes like me who wear what happens to be in the clean laundry pile. The diversity and focus on the ball and the game is the union that brings us back onto the hard courts time and again. I delight in our sweat-stained battlefields on courts and fitness studios, knowing that beyond the mirror's reflection, we discover the untapped power of our souls, one step, one lift, one ripping forehand down the line at a time.
Tennis has been my outlet and focus for fitness for the last decade. In tennis, fitness is critical to finding joy exploding from a well struck ball, whether a drop shot or a cross court winner just out of reach of my opponent. I need to get to the right spot with time to spare to to set up, move in the optimal way to take back or refuse to give up control of the offense. It's a sport that demands agility, endurance, and a spirit that refuses to be broken. As I step onto the hard surface court, I love the mingling sounds of squeaking shoes and rhythmic thumps of the yellow ball against the racket. I stretch my muscles knowing that on the courts, physical fitness is just as vital as a well-executed backhand.
Being fit for tennis is a delicate blend of strength and finesse. I train my body to move with grace and precision, to glide across the court like silk on a summer breeze. I haven’t gotten there, not even close. It is what motivates me. One pro tells me I look like an octopus at the net. I’m all over the place. Being less octopus-like is a 2023 goal. The hours I’ve spent sprinting to deny a winner and attempt a save or lunging for impossible shots are not just a means to an end; they are a testament to my indomitable spirit that thrives within me, within all of my fellow players. I believe in my partner’s ability and derive deep joy in her physical and mental achievements. For me, I push myself to the limit, chasing after every ball as I don’t know any other way to joy.
But tennis fitness is not just about the physicality; it’s about the mental game as well. In those intense moments when the score is tied, it's my inner fortitude that propels me forward. I battle my doubts and fears, silencing the voices that whisper, "be safe, you can’t do it." It is in those moments that I discover the true essence of tennis fitness—the unwavering belief in my ability to rise above the pressure and deliver a winning stroke.
What causes me deepest gratitude for the sport I play are the people I play with. Amidst the grueling workouts and the relentless pursuit of perfection, there are the people across the net and on my side in doubles whom I get to know on and off the courts... We have a camaraderie among fellow players, we clank racquets at the net after a hard-fought match. It's the way our bodies move in harmony with the rhythm of the game, each ball strike a brushstroke on the canvas of our tennis life. It's the satisfaction of a well-earned victory, the joy of knowing that we have battled, pushed through inevitable doubts and never, ever gave up.
Tennis fitness is a journey, a lifelong commitment to pushing our bodies and minds to produce results. It's a love affair that I willingly embrace, despite the blisters and the sore muscles. In this game of volleys and overheads, I find not just physical strength, but a resilience that extends far beyond the white lines. So, I will continue to lace up my tennis shoes, grip my racket with determination, and step onto the court with a spirit that burns brighter than the sun during a midday match at the USTA Center in Florida. For in the realm of tennis, I know my highest level of fitness is not just the power of my body, but the unwavering strength of my soul.