Monkey ball

As you know if you read this blog, I took up racquetball in early March.  I've lost my heart to the game and lost many pounds of unneeded weight to it as well (20 as of this writing!).

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.

Singular. 

In the whole town.

One court.

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.

Mercifully.

Because when I do those exceedingly awkward graceful futile lunges at the ball ballet leaps in pursuit of a great shot, well  . . . I wouldn't want to show off after all.

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.

- Catherine

A Big Loser

I've been playing racquetball for three months now. After the disastrous fall resulting in eight stitches from my second outing to the court, I'm happy to report that I have remained injury free.  And I've discovered, through the development of tennis elbow in my right arm, that I am a stronger and better player with my left arm. I'm officially a "lefty" when it comes to racquetball and my skill is improving with every game.

I've endured many losses to my friend and teacher, Rhonda, of course.  She plays a LOT better than I. We spend the first ten minutes of each session warming up with random rallying and then we start the first of two to four games, depending on how much time we have. 

In order for Rhonda to improve, though, she has to do more than just teach me and play to my level.

So, there is usually at least one game where she practices her serve -- I always lose those games.

Then there is usually one game where she serves easy but plays the rest of her shots hard -- I lose those games too.

It's good practice for me to try to return those tough serves and shots, and the exercise of moving across the court is good, so I'm philosophical about the inevitable losses.

BUT . . .

. . . the most significant loss of all in these last three months is the happiest: I've lost twenty pounds. TWENTY!!!

I'm down an entire size in clothing. The jeans and shorts I purchased a month ago are falling off of me. I'm back into sun dresses that I haven't worn in years. And my weight is lower than it's been in several years too.

In all of this, I've hardly changed my diet. I still have a glass of wine with dinner.  I try to keep my chocolate intake to just the good quality dark stuff. I don't deprive myself unless I know it's a substance, like deep fried food, that will kick my butt (read: gall bladder) later on. Oh, and I eat two big spoonfuls of vanilla yogurt every day (not the low-fat kind but the regular, full-fat, organic yogurt). I add a tablespoon of granola and, if I have it, some fresh fruit.  That's become my mid-morning snack. Other than that, I eat as much as I always have, I think.

Twenty pounds. I wish my mom were here to applaud me because I know she'd be very pleased.

- Catherine