Tuesday, May 6, 2014

The last time I stepped onto the courts after a long hiatus, I was pretty sure mortality would overtake me, so dire were the effects of physical exertion upon my body. This made perfect sense, in retrospect, because I was hinging all my hopes for a healthy lifestyle on a few hours of tennis each week, without any real concessions on caloric intake. This was the equivalent of wanting to build a plane using a handful of O2 masks and vomit bags.

But I didn’t feel like I was dying last week, when tennis with King Calm started in earnest, and that may be the most ringing endorsement of my health regimen to date. It was revelatory, in a way, to not be inconvenienced by my body, even after 90 minutes of play. I was slightly winded and glazed in sweat, to be sure, but in full command of mobility and lung capacity. King Calm does CrossFit a few times a week, too, which makes him as tough an opponent as ever, and keeping pace is the price of admission for a good match.

What enhanced our Monday match even more, at least for me, was the realization that I was trying to improve my game, rather than straight up win. This wasn’t semi-finals in the Frisco Open, after all. In place of my timid, weaksauce second serves were bets, some of which panned out, some of which didn’t. I’d like to think I made good on my closing wish from back in December–and here, now, we faced off on the courts, our better selves in a better time, swatting at a fuzzy yellow ball, as men.