Circle of Despair

tennisTomorrow I play tennis for the first time since October. One comment was made: “You’ll never find your balls.”

It took me a minute to realize she meant tennis balls in the snow. I thought she meant… never mind. For the record they have not crawled back inside my body for winter.

I’m starting to get the first rumblings of concern about the increased sedentary nature of winter in general. I have looked at my cross country skis. They looked back, as if to say, “You’re not going to stand on us, are you? Fuuuuuuuuuu…” Oddly, the year that I got them was a year pretty much without snow. Perhaps if I go skiing I can stop this snow nonsense, but more likely true environmental change would require a new sacrificial cash outlay, one I am not prepared to make.

Tennis now and then in the winter won’t make much difference for me anyway, too infrequent and too time limited. I will probably overplay, packing in as much pseudo-ball whacking glory into an hour as I can, as though the calorie burn could be stored, squirrel-like, in my cheeks (yes, an homage auntie e), but sadly it doesn’t work like that. It should.

So with the Christmas Gorge-Fest staring me in the face, I think I better talk to Kathryn about some personal training tips. If you think I was afraid of the clothes, I tell you you know nothing of my fear.

So Kat… I think I’m ready. Provided I survive tennis.