I see a little progress every time I play, whether it is against someone or a practice on my own. Very encouraging, I must admit.
This morning I enthusiastically showed up at the gym at 7:00 so I could get in a 45 minute practice before work. I like to practice at that hour -- no one is there and no one bothers to watch me.
Because this gym I'm forced to use right now has THE only racquetball court in Park City (where I work every summer).
That's the only court.
In the whole town.
With a lovely clear glass wall between the players and those who patronize the gym for other reasons.
As if the glass weren't enough, the court is located on the main hallway that leads from the entrance to EVERYTHING else in the gym. Funnily enough, it also leads FROM everything else in the gym back to the entrance. And for those who need to wait for someone or stop to get their stuff together before they exit the building, there is a very convenient bench.
Located right across from the glass wall of the racquetball court.
It's enough to make me feel like a monkey in a cage.
So different from my gym at home, which has five lovely courts, three of which are tucked away at the back of the building. No glass walls.
Because when I do those exceedingly
Anyway, there I was this morning, practicing fiercely and making some good shots, and feelin' so very fly! I hit eight great and tough shots in a row and I thought to myself "Ah ha! Terrific progress!"
And then the next shot went completely awry. Laughably awry. Pitifully awry. It didn't even make it to the wall before it died on the floor.
And there were many more like it before I was done this morning.
It's enough to bring a girl straight back to earth.
The only consolation is that there was no one outside the glass wall at 7:20 in the a.m. to see the monkey in the cage.