What Goes Up, And What Shouldn’t!

We hit it—not just the golden age, but also the tennis balls—as we decided to play competently! The story began when I needed to prove that my body was still in sync with my brain. This was a few years ago, back when my brain was still functioning without the impacts of the golden age, the symptoms of the woman’s wisdom part of life, or, okay, I’ll say it, menopausal symptoms. So here we go, tennis.

I started my first tennis lesson in my late thirties, and like all beginners, I remember the “moon balls” or “balls to the sky.” We all shot these perpendicular angles that sent the balls straight up, defying all odds and physics. I aimed to hit the ball straight to the opposite side from my position, but it went up at a 90-degree angle, seemingly reaching the moon. I never understood how that could happen. A few lessons later, my shots improved, and I played rallies respectfully with my coach and other beginner players.

Fast-forward to my mid-40s, my body started to ache and show signs that it wasn’t the same anymore. Needing to prove something wrong, I suggested to my friends that we not only do tennis but start with “CARDIO TENNIS.” And “Yes, we can do it.”

Blessed with good friends, they agreed. We decided to walk 3 km to where we would meet our tennis coach. On our way, we had a roundabout that became part of our story. This walk brings me to my two friends, Ms. “Yes, why not? Let’s do it!”—the positive side of our friendship—and Ms. “Really, seriously, ladies? Okay, God help us, what can I do? Let’s do it!”—the voice of reason. Together, we form the perfect recipe for friendship, each with an independent brain but connected perfectly.

Armed with tennis rackets toward off stray dogs, we must have looked silly marching to our tennis racquets, both my friends were ready to use them as weapons. Honestly, I doubted they would ever use them. I could see them screaming, shouting, even crying if a dog sniffed at us, let alone barked. During these walks, we argued about why we didn’t use the car. But we’d always agree it was a good session and a refreshing walk on the way back. I love my friends; they are exceptional.

These walks are therapeutic, and their effects last forever. While bullying is always wrong, it was hilariously fun during our training sessions.

How do you support friends when silly things happen during training? Like sending balls straight to the moon—we all did that as amateurs. It took weeks to hit balls to the other side of the court consistently. Our sessions included more:

Territorial Quarrel: History shows people fought for more land. In our sessions, due to the “Golden Age” effect, we didn’t need more space to run. Once the ball reached our side, we left it for our partner and blamed her if she misses to hit it back. Both players could see the disappointment in the coach’s eyes, realizing how lazy we were.

Gastral Quarrel: The golden age comes with a price: its symptoms. One of them is when your body plays the trumpet at the wrong place and the most unexpected moments. This happened many times to all of us. Let’s change the subject now.

Front Liner Quarrel: The first in the queue is the most judged. Have you ever tried to focus on your coach’s instructions and a barely visible tennis ball without glasses at night while the others judge you? This stressful test determines your strength. You deserve to be in this group if you can hit the ball back.

Our tennis training sessions, despite the hard-core bullying, are lifesaving at this stage of our lives. I cherish these times and will fight to keep them going. Walking to the court, even if it involves a chase from a few stray dogs, we don’t care; we have our rackets ready. We fight back… RUN!

Dana Obeid