Achy Breaky Everything

I ache.

Pretty much all over my body.

Getting old sucks. Being out of shape sucks. Being old and out of shape really sucks.

I played tennis with some friends last night, hence my currently sorry state. I suppose getting older is not as bad as forgetting the reality of being older. I did not realize how much more effort is required when one is older. It means those balls you would chase down (and get to) on a regular basis take more effort. It means those knees you relied upon to spring into action are more rusty and creakey than springy. It means the supple wrist you relied upon to make last minute changes need extra support (sports tape) and feel the brunt of no longer being supple.

I realize I am whining and that whining is not attractive. I do not care right now. All I want to do is sit in a hot tub with super-powerful jets and soak my achy breaky body. Then I would like a full-body, therapeutic massage by someone with strong hands. *sigh* That would be awesome. My mouth is now slack and my eyes unfocused as I contemplate fantasy becoming reality. Excuse any spelling or grammatical errors as I drift off into my pain-induced haze.

Great, I'm back. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

I currently have many types of pain. Perhaps I will get some perverse pleasure out of identifying the different types. First, there is the sharp jab that startles you (my shoulder when I move it a certain way). Then there is the slow achy throb that just underlies daily life. There is also the pain in which your muscles are constantly tight (my neck). There is also the shooting pain that starts at one part of the body, but ends up at another, like when my lower back hurts, then shoots down to my butt, leaving a trail of wincing pain in its wake.

I'm walking funny, I'm wincing at odd times and must look somewhat odder than usual shuffling around. Although I looked a lot more awkward last night trying to get out of bed and use the bathroom (drank lots of water to avoid leg cramps). Quasimodo would've looked like Fred Astaire next to me. Not to mention what I must look like walking down stairs (note aforementioned creaky knees). Makes me walk bow-legged in an uneven gait clutching the handrail in case those knees decide to give out.

All right, even I am getting irritated with my whiney self. I could have avoided all this if I did not play tennis and spent the evening on my couch watching Project Runway like I had originally intended. Of course, the other option would be to exercise (at least a little) every day so I would not feel this intensity of pain. Maybe then, I wouldn't lumber to the ball and be huffing and puffing after every point. At one point during the set, I actually said, "lumber, lumber, lumber" aloud as I moved toward the ball. Nothing like creating your own disparaging commentary while on the court.

Mourning Days

The past few days I was in mourning. Kind of.

Let me explain. Earlier in the week, a friend sent me an e-mail asking how I was coping due to recent events. Confused much? Absolutely! I quickly shot back an e-mail with one word: “Huh?” He replied: “Didn’t know? Haven’t you seen the newspaper or read your tennis magazine? mc got married.”

“Wha-a-a-a?” Dah-duh-dum…and there it was. The death knell on nearly two decades of on-again-off-again crushing. Michael Chang is married. And it’s not to me.

I had to pause to let the reality sink in, then I googled it. Sure enough…married. To someone with Hawaii roots! Seriously?!

(For more of my past feelings for Michael Chang, see my post dated, July 29, 2008, infra.)

The next two days I wore predominantly black dress in keeping with my mourning…the death of what could have been. As I spoke with friends that weekend, it seems a great many people knew about the wedding and did not tell me. They either assumed I knew or did not want to be the bearer of bad news.

I read a few of the articles about Michael tying the knot and I discovered I never stood a chance. First of all, he (and his mother!) were looking exclusively for a Chinese girl. My response: diversify and strengthen the gene pool! Add some Japanese into the mix. It could only be good for the families. Could I convince him to abandon this “qualification” in a bride? I guess we’ll never know.

Also, the woman he married is quite young. About 9 years younger than him. I think maturity has a lot to recommend it. I am definitely more grounded, more insightful and a tiny bit more patient than I was when I was in my twenties.

I was bemoaning the unfairness of it all to a friend while we were in the movie theatre watching previews for upcoming television shows. One preview came on for a new show called “Castle” starring Nathan Fillion. He was great in the movie “Waitress” as well as the cumbersomely named sitcom “Two Guys a Girl and a Pizza Parlor.” But I loved him as Captain Malcolm Reynolds in “Firefly.” (See previous entry dated: June 29, 2007, infra.)

In mid-whine, I said, “Wow, he is still hot!”

My friend (quick to follow my tangent) commented, “It looks like he’s gained some weight. His face looks fuller.”

I replied, “Yeah, I like it!”

And thus, the mourning period was over.

So congratulations and best wishes to Michael Chang and his young Chinese bride. May you both have many years of happiness and prosperity.

And Nathan, if you’re reading this…I’m available.

An Open Letter to Michael Chang

Michael Chang.

***sigh*** (insert dreamy smile here) ***sigh***

Huan Hsu recently wrote an article for Slate entitled: “Dear Michael Chang: You ruined my tennis career. Thanks for nothing.” Here is the link to the article: http://www.slate.com/id/2194929.

My response: “Dear Michael Chang: You ruined me for other men. Thanks for everything.”

In my formative years, I rarely crushed on Asian guys. My best friend would go ga-ga over Asian dudes, but me, my attention was focused on the haole dudes. The one exception: Michael Chang. He caused my heart to go a-flutter and my eyes to go all dreamy.

Why? Because he is the whole package, baby!

Physical: He is about 5’9”, which is a perfect height for someone who is . . . er . . . 5’ almost 3”. I could wear heels and he would still be taller than me, but if I wore flats (as I always do), he would not tower over me in that weird, uncomfortable way. I tend to feel like a little kid when I am around tall people, which mentally takes me to that kid place. Which, if you are around a romantic interest, can be somewhat creepy, if you know what I mean.

His legs are incredible. Now, I am not one to usually gawk at men’s legs. I’m usually looking a little farther up . . . and I don’t mean their butts . . . I meant their faces. But Michael Chang has exceptional legs. I guess because he relied on his quickness and his ability to chase down every ball, he really built up his lower body strength. A law school classmate was at a tennis tournament and saw Michael’s father and informed me his father had thick, muscular legs, too. She said it boded well that it was a genetic thing and not likely to change once he (Michael) no longer played professionally.

Which leads me to my final physical point…the guy has stamina. He built his fierce reputation around running every single shot down. His opponent could never relax, because no matter how good the shot, Michael Chang would run that ball down, whether it was the beginning of the first set or the end of the fifth. He worked hard to be physically fit. That also gave him a mental edge, knowing that he could stay on that court and run around in the fifth set without being super tired and shaky. Which segues nicely into the second category,

Mental/Intellectual: Michael Chang was a thoughtful player and mentally tough. I believe in an interview, he compared playing tennis to playing chess. You could tell he was constantly thinking on the court. Strategizing. He would set up points, because physically he did not have the height or muscle mass to do what came naturally for other players, Michael had to play smart. He would figure out his opponents’ weaknesses and work it against his strengths. He had a game plan, but adjusted his plan to the capriciousness of the game.

Michael was always very articulate when interviewed. He came across confident, but not cocky, and was always contemplative in his comments. You could also tell he set very high standards for himself; and when he did not meet those standards, he was pretty hard on himself.

Family / Christian Values: Michael Chang has always been clear that he is a Christian. And from the way he conducts his public life, his faith seems like a very important part of who he is. That is very attractive! Much of his time after retiring from tennis seems to be spent on his charities and helping others. He also seems very calm and caring.

And he does this work with his family. Now some may be apprehensive about joining a close-knit family. But once they know you and love you, you become part of their fabric, so to speak. The importance of familial relationships and respecting your parents has been ingrained in me since I was a child. To be honest, I’m guessing his mom will be the most difficult one to win over. But, I’ve always done really well with parents. Heh.

X-Factor: Finally, Michael Chang has that X-Factor. Something that draws my eyes toward him. Something about his intensity and focus. Very intriguing. Maybe it has something to do with traveling around the world and learning about different cultures. Perhaps it was learning how to handle the pressure and attention of being a top athlete at such a young age. Perhaps it is simply innate in him. Whatever it is, he’s got it.

So, Huan Hsu of Slate, do not be jealous of Michael Chang and all he has accomplished. Rather, embrace it…embrace your Asian-American culture of expectation and values and what it means to be an Asian male in America. Let go of your one-handed backhand, net-charging, serve-and-volley ways and accept who you truly are. And take another look at Michael Chang. See that cute dimple in his cheek when he smiles? Perhaps he’s smiling for you, Huan; though I prefer to think he’s smiling for me.

C'mon Baby, Light My Fire

I am disturbed.

Not in the unstable, unbalanced, psycho kind of way (now wouldn’t that be a fascinating post?) More like there is a disturbance in my universe kind of way.

This past weekend I lost my fourth tennis match in a row, thus going 0-4 for this season. But that is not the reason I am disturbed. Rather, I am disturbed about not feeling disturbed about losing my fourth tennis match in a row. I think this is the first season in the many, many years I have been playing adult competitive tennis when I have not won at least one match. So why am I not bothered by this?

One reason may be that I am coming back from a wrist injury that kept me off the court for about a year. Perhaps I am cutting myself some slack because I realize I am returning from an injury and cannot expect to jump on the court and be at the level I was before the injury. Coupled with that, I have not really practiced a lot since my wrist healed. I cannot expect to play well after taking a long time off and with a limited amount of practice.

But it is more than that, which is why I find myself concerned. Have I lost my competitive edge? I notice I do not have the same focus and the “fire” that I usually have when I am competing. It’s almost like I do not care if I win or lose. Well, to a certain extent I never have cared too deeply . . . I mean, I am unwilling to cheat to win. I always did not (really) mind losing if I played well and prefer that to winning a match that my opponent is deliberately tanking to preserve her rating.

Generally, I am a good loser . . . on the outside. However on the inside, I keep thinking about what I could have done differently; I relive errors and am somewhat irritable at how poorly I played. Truthfully, I am a bit hard on myself. But this past season I have not scrutinized my play in the same way I have most of my life. I have not been as critical and have been more willing to just “let things go.”

Perhaps I am disturbed for nothing. I still find joy in being on the court and playing. Maybe I have even evolved, letting go of petty and unproductive thoughts. But I don’t think so. I don’t feel evolved and it’s not like I’m acting or feeling any better. I want to care about the quality of my play more. How does one get that back? Sports commentators call it a “fire in the belly.” It’s the thing that causes you focus more during the crucial points, helps you see openings and take them aggressively, pushes you when you are behind and basically makes you a better player.

I do not want to have lowered expectations of myself. I want to expect myself to give my all during the match and leave it all on the court (something that did not occur in my last four matches). That’s how I want to play tennis. That is not to say that I do not have fun on the court because I am so busy leaving my guts on it. Many people have said that while watching my matches they can’t tell if I’m winning or losing, because I am always smiling and laughing on the court. Well, I can smile and laugh and still feel ferocious (in the sweetest and most demure way, of course!) I am missing my ferociousness. I want it back. Where the heck did it go?

I will continue to practice during the “off” season and hopefully my game will improve. Hopefully if I play tennis more, I will rekindle the embers of my competitive spirit. I will focus and I will care and I will have the eye of the tiger! “Grrr!” rather than “meow . . . purr.”