This is my story – as it relates to tennis. Anyone who is ever stepped on the court with me knows that I am passionate about the game. And the greatest thing about my story is that the best is yet to come!
My Early Days of Tennis
I started playing tennis at 11 years old in New York. Was I any good? Yes, I was a pretty solid junior tennis player. But, objectively, I was not great – like “world class” great. In my mind I was good enough to decide that I wanted to be a world class tennis player and would work as hard as I could to meet that goal. This was not a particularly rational thought.
For the next 7 years, pretty much all I did was play tennis, think about tennis, dream about tennis. I had a belief that if I worked harder than anyone else I would somehow reach my goal of becoming a professional tennis player. So I set out, in earnest, to do just that.
I had a love/hate relationship with the game of tennis. Without question, I was passionate about the game and all the challenges it offered. But, I rarely experienced any joy on the tennis court: I was angry, frustrated with myself, and typically disappointed that I could not achieve the results I yearned for. I made several really bad decisions (like deciding to switch to using a left-handed forehand when I was 14!) that did not help my quest. In effect, I was my own worst enemy.
I had some mixed results with tennis. I beat a handful of highly ranked players during my junior years. But by the time I was done with high school it was clear that I was pretty miserable whenever I walked on the tennis court, and I made life miserable for those around me.
From the time I was 19-25 I threw myself into teaching tennis. It became immediately apparent to me that whatever talents I lacked in my own tennis-playing abilities I seemed to possess in helping others. In hindsight, I believe my ability to teach tennis so well was in large part due to how much I struggled with learning to play the game myself. I was not a particularly adept athlete or had the mindset of a champion, but I was perseverant in studying and learning how to excel in every facet of the game. Where I lacked patience in myself, I was somehow able to have supreme patience with others as they puzzled through how to get their bodies to do things that were not easy for them.
But, at the time, I did not want to be a tennis teacher. I equated tennis with my own failures in life and every time I walked on the court I was facing my own demons. So, in my mid-twenties, I decided it was time to move on from tennis.
Life Happens
For the next 33 years my life had very little intersection with the game of tennis. I got rid of my rackets, I never watched any tennis on TV, I rarely stepped on a tennis court. I had completely moved on.
While the main part of my adult life is not the focus of this story, I have had a wonderful life, sharing 34 years with my first wife and raising three amazing children. We built a successful technology business and lived on a rural Oregon property, with a small herd of dairy cows and a steady string of homestead maintenance projects.
Aside from my family, one of the greatest joys of my life was my involvement with a small community theater, where I worked with many young children and wrote and produced three children’s musicals. Life can be full of surprises … and I never saw that coming!
I did venture onto the court with my wife and kids at times. And on family trips we did visit the Miami Open and US Open. But any steps onto the tennis court immediately brought back a host of bad memories and I decided that was not the place for me to be. The image I had of myself was one of a failed athlete. And that never felt very good.
So you might be wondering – how the heck does this story lead back to tennis? Ok, here we go…
Born to Run
At the age of 49 I did what many people in this society do: I looked in the mirror and said, “Oh my gosh, I am about to turn 50 years old. What the heck am I doing with my life?” I saw someone who was badly out of shape, had spent the last several decades spending significant amounts of time hunched in front of a computer, and realized that I was once a young person who had audacious dreams about athletic achievement, but I had convinced myself to shelve those dreams away. My adult life was filled with much to be grateful for and so many positive relationships, but I knew that part of me felt incomplete.
One thing that I was certain about was that I had to start moving my body in order to maintain any semblance of health. Being the goal driven, numbers-oriented person I am, I decided I would take up running. I knew, from a brief foray into running during my twenties, that I had some ability to run, and I had sporadically done some running during my adult life. The last time I had run in any kind of race was at about 28 years old. So what did I do? I set a goal that I was going to run a 5:00 minute mile within two years. This was really an absurd idea! But there is something about how my brain is wired to not simply be content to do an activity but to want to be the best. This is not a mindset that I necessarily encourage. But it is my nature.
So I started a training log and set out on the first day to do a slow 2 mile jog. I figured there was no way I could fail at that. But just a short, half-mile later, gasping for air and feeling extreme pain in my hips, I gave up and dejectedly slinked back to my car.
I was mortified. Was my body, at 49 years old already spent? Would I need to accept the fact that a few decades of minimal activity had exacted such a significant cost on my body? One thing was certain – my hips were not fully functional and I knew if I was going to do any activity I better get a little more information about what was going on with my hip joints.
A trip to the local orthopedics center revealed a very harsh reality – I had less than 5% of the cartilage left in both hips and needed to get them replaced. There is no medical solution to re-grow cartilage. So now what? My admittedly insane goal of running a 5 minute mile was thwarted, right from the start. I told the surgeon I had just embarked on a running program so I was really bummed to hear this news. He said “You really can’t do any more damage. When the pain is too much, call and schedule the procedure. Until then you can keep on running.” So that is what I did.
For weeks I would go out and hobble along. It was a combination of walking and very slow jogging. I kept at it. I learned that once I would get through the first mile or so that the extreme pain would start to subside. I just needed to get past that initial barrier.
3 months into my “fitness” project, I was still plodding along. I decided to time myself. I made it to the track and ran a mile in 9:40. I felt a bit deflated and embarrassed that I had the idea of being an elite runner. I figured I would be able to run a sub-7:00 minute mile. Clearly my vision did not match reality.
But everyone has their superpower. And mine is perseverance.
So something kept me going. The next day I went back out on the road. And then the day after that. And week by week I got just a little bit faster. It was not like I had any major breakthrough, but I consistently would increase my fitness, a little bit at a time. There were no days when I was free from pain in my hips, but I learned to manage that pain and keep improving each day.
As this is a tennis story rather than a running story, I will keep the highlights of my masters running career to a minimum. I had five amazing years of competitive running. I will fast forward five years, and simply say that at the age of 54 I crossed the finished line at the Pepsi Invitational Masters Mile at Hayward Field in a time of 5:14. While I did come up a little short of my “absurd goal” of running a sub-5 minute mile, I managed, in less than 5 years, to reach a level of athletic achievement that I never dreamed was possible. Well, yes, I dreamed it over and over again, but I had been conditioned to believe that dreams didn’t really come true. Now, at the age of 54 I suddenly had evidence to the contrary.
A little over a year later, at the age of 55, I had both of my hip joints replaced. I was at peace. I had always wanted to do something athletic and to experience the thrill of competing at a high level. With running, I had managed to achieve something I never thought would be possible. So I felt good about getting the surgery and moving on to a different stage of life which would hopefully include some bike rides, gardening, and some pain-free walking.
Little did I know my athletic story was just beginning!
Tennis, Chapter 2
I had my hips replaced 6 months apart in 2019. I researched the surgery extensively and read a lot about people who continued with competitive athletic pursuits post-surgery, but this was generally not recommended.
I was committed to staying active and did a lot of walking as part of my rehabilitation. At some point I decided to try jogging lightly. It felt very different than running on my “real” hips. The movement is constrained and the titanium joints offer no shock absorption. So, the repetitive pounding of running starts to jar the body and become uncomfortable.
But I still had a high level of aerobic fitness. And somehow I was able to run. And run I did.
I had not really planned to run competitively again. But in 2021 I won the USATF 55+ 1500m Oregon State Championships in a time of 5:25. That is roughly equivalent to a 5:48 mile. While I had certainly run much faster prior to my surgeries, that day was the best running performance of my life.
So I wondered what next? Do I keep on pushing myself to run faster and faster. To what end? This story focuses on my athletic life. But sports is just a small part of my “real” journey and the path that I am on. Along my road to athletic success, I learned that the the richness of personal relationships is where the joy of life resides. Achieving goals, in and of itself, is an empty pursuit. Competitive running always seemed to lead me on a chase to try to tick one more second off the clock. That was not a challenge that held nearly as much appeal anymore.
Lingering in the back of my mind was the one area of my life where I harbored deep regrets: my tennis “career.” I knew I loved the game of tennis, but my experience around tennis was one of emotional pain. The way I acted on the tennis court and the interactions I had with competitors, teammates, and friends was something I felt a lot of shame about.
Was it possible for a redo? Was I ready to confront the demons that haunted me? Was my body capable of playing high-level tennis as I rapidly approached the age of 60. I knew I could run in a straight line with these new-fangled hips. But could I change direction, bend, and rotate in the ways required for tennis? I was skeptical. I had played so little tennis in decades. I did play some tennis with my family from time to time, but my skill level was marginal, at best. In contemplating a return to tennis, I had an epiphany: the level that I played tennis at, or what I achieved, was completely irrelevant. The more relevant challenge was whether I could experience joy on the tennis court no matter what my actual playing level was. For a goal-oriented person, such as myself, this was going to be a supreme challenge.
And in that spirit, at the age of 56, I began my quest.
My daily spiritual practice is based around three principles: gratitude, self-forgiveness, and patience. Each day presents new and interesting challenges in each of these areas. I am continually challenged to summon the effort and intention necessary to harness the positive qualities I want to project on the tennis court and let go of the negative and un-productive thought patterns that are always with me. This is a work in progress!
So with great patience and gentleness I started playing tennis 6 years ago. The first two years were an exercise in setting low expectations and learning to accept some very modest results. I reminded myself, each day, to simply be grateful that I could be on a tennis court. As with my very slow improvement trajectory with distance running, my tennis level was low and improvement was not discernible. My movement was very limited. My visual skills and ability to track the ball was marginal. My reaction time was abysmal. While I could occasionally hit a big forehand or serve, my game was inconsistent and once an opponent got me on the defensive, I could rarely get back into the point. I was a better-than-average recreational tennis player.
I reminded myself to be patient. But as I watched the top local players play at a level far beyond my own, I figured with the age of 60 rapidly approaching, I would need to keep my focus on being at peace with playing tennis for fitness and doing my best to develop a low-key approach.
But the orientation to life I have cultivated is to always be learning and improving. That is where I now find my joy. Not to improve in quantum leaps, but to each day, pick one little thing to improve on. And with perseverance, those daily improvements will lead to larger gains, down the road. I did not hold any external goals, but my goals were around a 100% commitment to the process of improving and of tackling the mental challenges that had always held me back from competing at an elite level.
And for the past half dozen years I have put that philosophy to work, and every day I am improving my tennis game, my mental approach, my fitness, my movement, and my ability to welcome the challenge of competition. The greater lesson I have learned is to embrace the fact that the game of tennis is just that … a game. And the greatest fulfillment comes from being immersed in the joy and playfulness of being on the tennis court. I am quite fortunate to have met my wife, Nancy, in 2020. We share the joy of life, both on the court and off, and I could not ask for a better partner with whom to traverse the wonders and challenges of living … and aging.
By the time I reached 60, not only did I get to the level of competing with those top local players, but I found myself in the finals of the Oregon State 60 and Over Indoor Championships. I never really expected to play tennis again and suddenly I was competing for a relatively important title. On top of that, my 90 year old parents were there to watch me play. Going into the tournament I had no expectations and no thoughts about winning. I just wanted to play and focus on enjoying myself. Suddenly I was one match away from winning the title and and I was filled with all the fears, doubts, and self-criticisms that had occupied my mind decades before. What if I lost my cool on the court and smashed my racket in anger. I started to imagine the level of shame I would feel, as my parents would be witnessing the same poor behavior that they experienced from me over and over again, 45 years earlier. I was nervous!
Fortunately this is a story about redemption and emotional healing! In a hard-fought finals, I played my best tennis. At the critical moment of 5-4, 40-30 in the first set, I step to the line to serve. Set point! While I had maintained my focus throughout the match, in that moment all my fears and self-doubts welled up inside of me. I thought that my parents, sitting in the gallery, would see me crumble. Would I fail? But as I stood at the baseline, something shifted for me. I closed my eyes, I smiled gently and exhaled. I conjured an image of myself with my dog, resting in a warm field amidst tall waving grass – an image that Nancy and I have developed as part of our meditation practice with our teacher, Rain. What better moment to summon this calming image! My breathing started to settle. I opened my eyes, and with new-found clarity and calm, I bounced the ball three times and fired an ace. First set over!
I went on to win that match and many others. At the end of the year, I was ranked approximately 75 in the USTA 60 and over division.
While I was not too invested in the outcome, I was invested in experiencing the joy of competing. And I proved to myself that I could compete at a high level, rise to the mental challenge, and fully enjoy the moment.
And that felt great!
A Return to Coaching
Are my days of senior tournament tennis over? Not quite yet. But, my focus has shifted to coaching. I know that the knowledge I have acquired in learning to improve my own tennis game, hone my mental skills, and increase my mobility are meant to be shared.
That is why I spend much of my time teaching tennis and working with others on physical and mental fitness. I have created this website and am now dedicated to helping others – kids, adults, and seniors – explore what is possible for themselves through playing the game of tennis and learning to experience the thrill of using their bodies and competing.
I am passionate about helping others improve. In each interaction, I look at myself as both teacher and student, as my own path involves learning and improving each day.
I love to challenge my students to explore what is possible. And I also love to challenge myself by revisiting my assumptions and methods with fresh eyes and learn from the benefit of new experiences and information.
My greatest thrill as a tennis teacher came about 40 years ago. I woman came to my court for a lesson. She was about 50 and had never done anything athletic in her life. Her eye-hand coordination was marginal, at best. Her body moved stiffly and awkwardly as she attempted to strike the ball. Rarely was she successful in connecting the ball with the strings, let alone hitting the ball over the net. But she had perseverance that surpassed my own. And over the course of that spring and summer she committed herself to being a little better each day. She progressed to the point of becoming a real tennis player. For the next four decades she enjoyed tennis with all her heart, playing most days of the week with her husband. I owe this woman my life, as she is my mother. And what a great gift to be able to share with her this activity that has brought a smile to her face each time she walked onto the court.
There is my tennis story. If there is something in my story that speaks to you or motivates you to take the next step in your own tennis journey, please let me know. I would love to hear from you.