When I watch my son play tennis I get such great joy from watching how effortlessly he hits the ball. I’m even more enamoured with his agility and ability to navigate around the court.
In reality I think I’m finding myself reliving my pre-cancerous sporting days thru him.
I’m telling you this because I thought maybe I could pull off some dazzling moves on the tennis courts tonight. Sadly the reality is that my lack of activity has truly atrophied my muscles.
Ok, fine, I’m stalling. I’ll cut to the chase.
Half way through the game I ran to the net, my legs gave out, I tumbled to the ground, bounced my face off the turf and gave myself a nice road rash on my cheek and my arm. Fortunately I was quick enough to turn my head so I didn’t rip my stitches out of my forehead.
The court of ladies and their instructor next to us stopped their lesson and tried to console me. But it was too late, my pride was already shot. That, and I had to clean the blood off my arm.
Seriously I need to get my ass in gear and get some strength back in my body…cause ain’t nobody wanting to see that again.
Oh, and cause my brothers will be wondering, yes, I won the point.