Wednesday, September 14, 2011


Racquetball was one of the bright spots of my freshman year. It's the only class I've taken with someone I was related to, my sister Christie. I had received a racquet for Christmas and bought some sweet new gym shoes while on vacation with the family in Florida.

I remember an odd couple my sister and I would pair up against in doubles occasionally. There was a younger, student-aged kid who played with an older guy who wore khaki pants and loafers. While playing. I know. I still can't figure that out. I remember that they would sometimes stand right up on the receiving line (the dotted line you stand behind while waiting for the serve) and try to take us off guard by hitting the ball really quickly instead of letting it bounce around off the back wall. Just that you're only surprised after they do it once or twice and then it simply becomes annoying. So you just softly lob it over their heads.

I would play off and on over the next who knows how many years but only really started playing consistently the last few years. It's been interesting as every time I kind of hit a plateau where I have felt like I've learned all I could, I'll start playing with someone new and learn all kinds of new things to try. That's a good metaphor for life. You can always learn something new from everyone you meet.

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