Yesterday, I had my first tennis lesson in decades.

Walking onto the court felt a lot like getting back into the dating pool after a long, dignified absence (not that I have started dating😎).

You remember the general idea of how things work, but you’re not entirely sure the rules haven’t changed.

I arrived feeling reasonably confident. After all, I walk. I stretch. I swim. I Peloton. I lift things heavier than a wine glass.

Surely tennis would be manageable.

What I had forgotten is that tennis is a full-body conspiracy. Within ten minutes my lungs were negotiating surrender, my legs were questioning my judgment, and my brain was trying to remember sixteen different instructions simultaneously…move your feet, watch the ball, follow through, balance, hit the ball early, stop breathing like a Labrador.

And here’s the humbling truth. No matter how fit you think you are, tennis fitness is its own category. It requires speed, balance, coordination, and the ability to sprint sideways while pretending this was your plan all along.

There were moments of grace. A clean forehand. A respectable serve.

And then there were moments where the ball sailed elegantly into the next court which I believe professionals refer to as generous court sharing.

But something nice happened about halfway through.

Muscle memory stirred. The rhythm returned. That small, satisfying pop of ball meeting strings reminded me why I loved the game in the first place.

Tennis demands complete presence. You cannot think about politics, grocery prices, or the general decline of civilization when a yellow ball is flying toward your face at a significant speed.

By the end I was sweaty, slightly humbled, and oddly exhilarated.

Getting back on the tennis court, it turns out, is exactly like getting back into the dating pool.

You are nervous.

You are rusty.

Hopefully, I never have to ever date again and hopefully, there is a lot of tennis to look forward to because I believe I still got game.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be applying ice to muscles I’m fairly certain have been on sabbatical since the Clinton administration.