Sunday, May 08, 2011

mother slipping

Happy day to all you mothers out there the world over!

Now that that is out of the way . . .

. . . on to me.

I’m a bit of a mother myself anyhow . . .

So, my search for clay court tennis shoes is still ongoing, and not going on so well.

I’m still hitting the courts in bald shoes and - here comes the official excuse - I’m not moving as well as I could because of it. Yesterday at tennis aerobics we were doing side to side drills . . . and for me it was, slide to slide drills . . .

Our club has promised to get a new batch of clay courts shoes in . . . before it snows again . . . is what I’m thinking. I can’t wait.

So, I’m hitting the doubles courts again today to see if I can maintain my top court position. See, not doing so badly despite the lack of traction.

And I do continue to grumble under my breath while adjusting my game to clay courts. Clay never was, and still is not, my favourite surface. There is just no way to serve and volley effectively on clay. But, being indoor year round and inexpensive and close sold me on the idea of joining this club and I’m slowly regaining my old tennis form at least as far as getting in shape goes.

The funny thing to me is, now that I have four plus decades under my belt, getting back in top physical form is bloody tough. My ankles hurt (likely from all the sliding) and in the morning my body needs about twenty minutes to become fully functional again. This never, ever, ever happened when I was in my early twenties. I guess that’s why tennis players on the circuit burn out around age 30 with a few exceptions.

Oh, and the best players in the club, including the pros, play on Wednesday night. One of the pros asked me to join that league . . . hmm, guess I will and see how it goes. I promise to give a full account of my folly.

I have been unable to play Wednesday night because of family timing conflicts, as well as being too out of shape. But I’ve been working hard on conditioning and I feel now is the time to join that league, even though I’ll be sliding around the court until I find new treads.

Okay, I’ll shut up about my shoes.

Well, I hear the stirring of daughter making mother breakfast.

So, I’m off to join in the feast . . .

Until next Sunday . . .

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