Stumbled upon that Lake Park tennis program sign while walking my dog last Tuesday. Thought “Why not?” since my doctor’s been bugging me about cardio. Signed up right there on a rusty park bench using my phone.
Day one reality check:
Showed up in my old running shoes feeling all confident. Coach Dave hands me this dented racket that looked like it survived a war. First swing? Missed the ball completely. Second try? Smacked it straight into the net pole. My shoulders were burning after just ten minutes of trying to hit those fuzzy yellow things. Meanwhile some six-year-old kid next court was serving like a tiny Wimbledon pro.
What Actually Went Down:
- Warm-ups suck but work: We did these ridiculous knee-high skipping drills. Felt like a dying kangaroo. Coach made us do lunges until my legs trembled.
- Learned to not murder the ball: Dave kept shouting “Stop swinging like you’re killing spiders!” Finally figured out gentle taps work better than baseball home runs.
- The “fun” part sneaks up on you: After two weeks of whiffing, something clicked. Hit a volley that actually sailed over the net. Got so pumped I tripped over my own feet and ate dirt. Whole class laughed. I laughed too. Felt good.
Started noticing real changes around week three. Woke up one morning and my gut didn’t hang over my PJ pants so much. Walked up my apartment stairs without wheezing like an asthmatic donkey. Even slept better – actually dreamed instead of just passing out.
Biggest surprise?
Wasn’t the fitness junkies but the random folks. Retired dude Bob who brings homemade energy balls that taste like sadness. That scary-fast grandma who destroys everyone in doubles. Weirdly started looking forward to their trash talk between serves. Accidentally made friends chasing tennis balls into bushes.
Eight weeks later? Still can’t do a proper overhand serve to save my life. But now I sweat buckets without feeling like I’ll collapse. My cheap racket’s covered in scrapes and the grip’s peeling off. Wouldn’t trade it. Signed up for next session before I even left the court today. Seriously though – bring your own water bottle. Park fountain tastes like pennies.
Real talk though:
It’s not magic. My back still aches if I play too long. Rain cancellations are annoying as hell. And zero shade on those courts – I look like a half-cooked lobster. But for ten bucks a session? Cheaper than gym guilt. Actually WANT to go instead of forcing myself. If my clumsy butt can do it? Anyone can.