Sometimes the game just slows for me. I can literally see the writing on the tennis ball, whether it says Wilson or Penn. My feet jump towards their intended target. After all, successful tennis always stems from preparation. My mind instinctively prepares my body to react, and my feet are part of my body. Sometimes this instinct fails. Instincts can be tricky, especially in tennis. There always seems to be a period where my mind tells my body, and my body then tells my feet to react, and nothing happens. My mind fails my body, and my body fails my mind, and my feet never move, and I usually lose the point, and eventually the match. This happens to me on a regular basis.
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NYC Tennis Blog
- The Everyday Adventurer
- I can’t seem to find my way anywhere. I have systematically spun myself in circles. I’m tired of wearing this heavy backpack. I can’t find the Trailhead, but I do eventually stumble across the highway. My compass tells me that I need to head north. I pitch my thumb and start trying to hitch a ride. And I try for a while, with just about everyone driving by. I must look terrible, the backcountry having gotten the best of me. Finally, an old Hippie stops his jalopy and proceeds to drive me for several miles until my vehicle appears. Sitting right where I left it, only yesterday. Suddenly, I’m out of the Wilderness and back into the safety of my operating vehicle with a heater
Old School
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