Tennis: A Reflection

As of Sunday evening, I am no longer a competitive tennis player... not even an athlete. My beautiful team lost out in a shocker of a conference final, so I've been forced to put my rackets on the shelf a little sooner than I thought I would.

I've quit tennis before, but I've never had it quit me. I've spent quite literally half my life on a tennis court; with all the hours I've put in, I estimate that the only things I've done longer in life are sleep and go to school. I started playing when I was eight years old and now I am in my early twenties. When you do something for that long it kind of becomes part of you... part of your identity. I've always been the girl with the really bad tan lines and tennis ball fuzz all over my car. I must find more of my identity in Christ now--a good lesson for me.

I sit here with tears welling in my eyes not only for my team and the bit of me that's been shelved, but also out of joy from all the good memories--like all the friends I made playing USTA tournaments, the weekends that it was just me and Daddy, or when we won conference two years ago by the skin of our teeth, and so many more-- and some of the literally painful ones-- like the time my coach pegged me in the nose when he was about five feet away from me. They make me smile, laugh and cry all at the same time. Haha.

Never fear though; I will be back. I hope I can be one of the cool alumni that comes back to matches when they can and are ridiculously loud and obnoxious. I'll pick up my rackets again for sure and join a little old ladies' league when I get done with physical therapy school. With any luck, I'll be teaching tennis at camp this summer too.

So, fare-thee-well, tennis, for now.