Today, I introduced my children to my first love, the first relationship, after my commitment to my faith and my parents, to which I had ever committed myself. Today, my children went to tennis day camp. It is a big day for me, since tennis played such a big role in my life growing up. Also, my husband and I met while teaching tennis at a summer camp. Tennis was the first thing (again, outside my religion and my family) I remember really dedicating myself to. It was also the first thing that broke my heart. I remember learning the meaning of "discipline" and "hard work." I remember being inspired to play; wanting to learn how to refine my strokes. I remember that feeling of hitting the ball at just the right time, at just the right spot, with just the right amount of umph, and just the right amount of spin, to guide the ball to exactly where I wanted it to go. I remember the feeling of chasing down the ball that seemed just out of my reach, and getting it back to the opponent's side of the court with more than just a desperate swing. I remember being up at the net, and putting away the ball with a crisp volley. I remember the feeling of accomplishment.
I also remember the days of not wanting to practice, the heat waves, the hours of panting, and sore muscles. I remember those days of being "forced" by my father or my coach to muster up some energy to practice, to focus on my strokes, only to feel myself shutting down, and feeling even more drained of any motivation. I also remember what I like to call a, "tennis hangover." This was the feeling I got the morning after losing a close match: the ever so brief moment of amnesia, followed by the hint of a memory of my defeat, followed, then, by the hope that, "it was all a dream," only to be replaced by the disappointing realization that it really did happen. A sinking feeling, really. But it motivated me to become better, and the next day I would be out on the court practicing again -sometimes.
Many times, those feelings of motivation were lost to me. I had gone through periods of my life when I turned my back on my first love. At the time, I thought of it as an escape from an oppressive, smothering relationship, a chance to explore other potentially defining forces in my life. But as they say about relationships: "If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were." So I let the tennis go; or should I say, the tennis let me go? After having played all through high school and college, I took a sabbatical during my early years of graduate school. But eventually, I missed the tennis, and true to the aforementioned quote, I came back within a few years.
Although I no longer play competitively, tennis still plays a huge role in my life. The lessons I learned while training have continued to guide me. Focus on the ball: when I focus on the task at hand, and block out potential distractors, I can more efficiently accomplish said task. Practice, practice, practice: the best way to improve my performance, whether it be on the tennis court, the operating room, or in life, is to practice. Learn from your mistakes: pretty self-explanatory. Just shake it off: yes, learn from your mistakes, but don't dwell on them. Go on to the next point, and focus on it, rather than the past. Have fun: perhaps the hardest lesson for me to learn, both in tennis and in life. I no longer keep score, and I have found that I enjoy the tennis at a different level. There is a very comforting feeling, the familiarity of an old friend, when I have a racket in my hand and I am on the tennis court. I feel safe and empowered when I am on the court. I do miss the competitive side of it, and perhaps in the future, I may re-visit the competitive circuit. But for now, I enjoy the way the tennis comforts me, sharpens my mind and body, and brings my family together.
My kids were very excited to start tennis camp. When they came home, they chatted all about it (my husband took them today because :( I am still studying for my boards) "Mommy, mommy, I hit the target three times!" And, "Mommy, mommy, we got to run around the court two times!" The excitement in their voices was enough for me to remember why I had fallen in love with my first love.
