Resuming training

I've resumed playing tennis again. The last time I did was in 2007, and going back to it—to actually hammering the ball to the other side of the court instead of simply watching Federer on tv—felt like a sweet reunion. 

What's fun is that there are so many tennis enthusiasts in class. Some play really well. Others manage to do simple passes. But most are beginners. I place myself between the second and third categories: I can see and chase the ball as it approaches, but I need to improve my return. My forehand still needs a lot of tweaking.

The idea of being good at sports is good practice. It amazes me how some of my classmates still manage to take time off their books to play balls. I should learn from their example.

What encourages me even more—aside from the possibility of having hypertrophied muscles and better cardiovascular circulation at the end of it all—is the company of more experienced classmates who are ever so patient in teaching us, beginners. They don't hesitate to lend their rackets; they don't play as if they own the court; they still smile even if, 95% of the time, they end up picking the balls.

My parents are thrilled to know that, instead of burying myself in books, I've finally gotten out to play. But training is a long, tedious process. And right now, after an entire day of playing, my entire body aches. I think I even partially sprained my ankle. But I comfort myself with what Tin Canlas told me yesterday.

"That's the good kind of pain."