It's 6:15 p.m. and I'm due back on duty in another 20 minutes. The conference is in full swing and the week has been very hectic. I'm tired and a little cranky, but friends are coming to stay for the next three days, and that makes me very happy.
I've continued playing racquetball in the gym next to the conference center, but I switched my time to early morning -- partly to accommodate my work schedule, which often includes evenings, and partly because there are no spectators at 5:30 in the a.m.
Yes, that's 5:30 a.m. folks. I roll out of bed at 5:15, sleepwalk into my workout clothes and thence to the gym, practice for 45 minutes to an hour, walk back to the condo, take a shower, put on makeup, and am facing the day by 7:15 a.m.
The little blue racquetball balls continue to torment me. The other day I served a be-a-u-tiful serve -- so straight that the ball came right back at me off the wall. Right to my ankle. Where it thudded against flesh and bone and then huddled on the court floor at my feet. Sobbing.
Then today I made another beautiful shot. I could see the ball coming straight back at me, very low to the ground, so I jumped -- intending to jump over it. I misjudged the velocity or something -- because I jumped and then landed ON it. Thankfully my other foot landed squarely on the ground and I didn't fall over.
Again, I laughed.
You practice this game long enough by yourself and you end up anthropomorphizing the equipment.
It's a busy season at work and I am bombarded all day with requests, fires to put out, schedules to keep, meetings to attend. These are tough days. So it comforts me to have victory, even if it's only over a little blue ball at 5:30 in the morning.