Photo: lucky_sunny, Flickr Creative Commons
I am a fickle son of a bitch. I always have been. I don't like living in the same place for very long. I experience wanderlust so strongly that I don't even consider the physical act of moving that big of an annoyance. Unfortunately the anchors of family weigh heavily and I've had to forsake, or at least postpone, a more nomadic existence. If it weren't for the fact that I actually love my wife and son, this would be an unbearable existential crisis. Even with my swollen, bleeding heart, it's too bad I'm not a selfish prick who could just pick up and walk away from his responsibilities. The fact that I don't and don't whine too much about it should be reason enough for my wife to wait on me hand and foot like a 1950s ideal. Every man who isn't a total douche should be appreciated for being being a saint, right?
But this isn't about how great of a selfless father and husband I am. This is about something I used to love. I'm just not feeling the tennis coaching thing this year. Over the last four years it was something I looked forward to, something that refreshed my views of adolescents, something that let me blow off steam before going home. This year it seems to be just another part of my job. The weird thing is that some of the frustrating personal issues we dealt with on past teams are completely gone this year. This is a much more peaceful group and the previous teams weren't even close to being bad.
I think it may just be that I've moved on from the sport a bit. I don't play as much as I used to. Last summer was the last time I played in a tournament and I don't feel any desire to play in another one anytime soon. It's all the running's fault. I think what I used to get from tennis practice I now get from my runs and my biking. I blow off steam through physical exertion, I get personal goals to work for, and unlike tennis practice, I get quiet time to myself. Also, tennis is really bad on the knees, much worse than running is. Big guys like me can't expect to have their knees forever. Of course, it could just be a whitewashing of the past by my memory.
But in the end, I blame my fickle nature. I obsess over my interests in spurts and it seems the tennis spurt is over. That's okay, I guess.
Oh, and I may not have mentioned this on the blog yet, but I officially signed up for my first triathlon to be held in late May. I've got the running and biking legs down. I just have to see if I remember how to swim. I was a distance swimmer as a kid on the swim team, but I've literally gone years at a time without having the need for a swimsuit since I quit the team in 7th grade almost 20 years ago. It'll happen. I just need the weather to stay warm for a bit so I can actually start practicing.