How I Stumbled Into This Tennis League
So there I was last winter, just staring at the extra holiday cookies sitting on my hips, thinking about joining another boring gym. Then my neighbor Linda waves me down while walking her bulldog. She’s all, “Hey, you ever try the ladies tennis league? We scream at balls every Tuesday, then drink cheap wine after.” Sounded more fun than treadmill torture, so I signed up blind.
The Awkward First Practice Session
Showed up at those public courts near Bayfront Parkway with my Walmart racket, feeling like a clown. Twenty women were stretching – retirees, young moms, some scary-good players. Coach Karen hands me this lime-green ball, saying “Don’t sweat skill levels, just hit hard”. I spent half the morning chasing wild shots into fences, laughing when I tripped over my own feet.
The Fitness Part That Sneaks Up On You
After a month, weird stuff happened:
- That knee creak when I climb stairs? Gone
- Carrying groceries felt lighter – turns out I wasn’t wheezing anymore
- Morning coffee now happens before sunrise because my body naturally wakes up pumped
Honestly? Way better than paying gym fees to stare at mirrors.
How Strangers Turned Into “Tennis Tribe”
Remember that wine Linda mentioned? It became our post-game ritual. We’d huddle at this picnic table, sweating and chugging Trader Joe’s two-buck chuck:
- Becca taught me backhand tricks while ranting about her teenager’s tattoo
- Retired nurse Patty now texts me soup recipes when I’m sick
- We even carpooled to that outlet mall last month – spent way too much on tennis skirts we don’t need
Why It Actually Stuck This Time
I’ve quit Zumba, yoga, that dusty Peloton – but this tennis thing? Six months strong. It’s not about winning matches (still terrible). It’s showing up exhausted, smashing a ball like it owes you money, then hearing Susan yell “Nice try, loser!” while handing you a cold drink. Didn’t go looking for friends or six-pack abs, but both kinda happened. Crazy how smacking fuzzy balls fixes everything.