"Crap! I wish I hadn't seen Ricky on the sidewalk."

"You will be fine for 31 minutes. You will be dead in 32 minutes."

Friday, February 15, 2013

The Sweater vs. A Pair of Pants

We went back to the rec center on Sunday to play tennis after having so much fun last week.

This is how committed we are to playing tennis:  we brought $11 with us, the fee for 90 minutes on the court.  Unfortunately, we got to the rec center at 3:30 and the whole place closes down at 4 p.m. on Sundays.  

The woman behind the counter suggested we try the local high school.  "They have nice courts over there," she said.  "And it's free."

Ten minutes later, we had successfully breached security at the high school and began playing in earnest.  Neither of us is an accomplished player, but we are good enough to play games.  There were lots of volleys, lots of hotly contested points.  We lunged.  We returned impossible shots.  Occasionally, we merely swung at the air.  

My partner, who was dressed in many layers, worked up a sweat.  "I'm a sweater," she said.  I was wearing a thin t-shirt and a pair of Nike athletic shoes that my son passed on to me. 

I panted once, twice.  We shared a bottle of water.  We played until it got too dark to see the ball. 

Next time, I'll wear a hoodie.  I like working up a sweat.

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