Squashed.

"Mommy, I don't want to wear these socks.  I want the ones with polka dots." Mayson, my youngest whines as she looks at me with imploring eyes.
Dauntingly, I look at the 14 steps ahead of me.  "I can do this," I think.  "Slowly...ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch." My calves throb in muscle fibers I didn't even know existed.  My back on my left side feels bruised, and my shoulder spazzes out  each time I grip the banister for some sort of support.  "WTF, ouch.  I thought I was in decent shape."  I make my way to the top, go into my three year old's room, get the polka dot socks from her dresser drawer and limp my way back down the staircase.  "ow, ow, ow, ow." I reach the bottom and begin to put the socks on Mayson's feet.
"NOOOO!!  Not THESE polka dot socks, the PINK polka dot ones!" She whines.  I look down at the mini-me I have created and sigh.  I honestly am not sure if I can make it up those stairs again, but for my minis...I will do anything.

Rewind forty-eight hours....

Saturday morning, a beautiful day in November, one of those days where you want to take advantage of each and every outside breath, because you are convinced it could be your last for months.  I lace up my Asics and glance at my Garmin.  Two hours until I am supposed to be at the Club for my first ever squash match.  A friend has convinced me to try it and has offered to teach me how...I just want to squeeze in a quick run before so I am sure I get a sufficient workout for the day...

14 miles and one shower later, I am pulling up the shell driveway to the Club.  I grab the racquet I have borrowed from my friend and head downstairs to the court.  My partner is already there hitting a small ball around effortlessly.  "This will be cake." I think. I put my water bottle down and head onto the court.

"No whites?" he greets me with...

"Ummm....yeah, no whites."  I shrug as I look down at my lululemon shorts and tank.  Okay, I had whites, but they are my old tennis whites and I was NOT about to rock a Nantucket Yacht Club polo and tennis skirt on the squash court.  Forget it.  Ditto with the eyewear.  NOT happening. Fashion is a big part of the reason I had yet to bust into the world of squash. Well, fashion and the fact that in my mind...it's just not a workout.  It's a game.  How high can your heart rate get while standing around swinging a racquet.  It's like tennis and do NOT get me started on tennis.  While I am thinking this to myself, my partner is rattling off the objective of the game, the rules, the scoring, the serving and the strategy.  "Hmmmm....sounds  a bit confusing, I'll just roll with it."  I think.

"So, got it?" he asks with a smile.
"Totally, let's go." I reply confidently.

He nonchalantly tosses the small ball into the air and "whack" slams it against the front wall.  It bounces off and hits the floor twenty feet in front of me.  "Shit."  I sprint like a maniac to get to it before the second bounce, barely make it reach the racquet out and "whack," volley up to the front wall again. "Oh thank God, that was close." My partner easily returns my shot and once again the ball lands twenty feet away...thump, thump, thump my feet sound like horse hooves as they not-so-gracefully make their way across the floor of the court to the ball and "smack," I once again hit the ball but also manage to run full force into the wall of the court.  Ouch, I forgot to stop running.  "Nice get," my friend and coach says encouragingly.  I can feel the bruises popping up on my leg and shoulder.
"Thanks," I mumble, this is WAY harder than I thought.
"Ready to play?" he asks....
WAIT, we haven't even started yet?!?  WTH. This is crazy!  I run marathons, teach spinning classes, lift weights and workout religiously...most would even say...ahem, obsessively and I can't even handle warm-up for a squash game.  My nerves set in...

And so the game begins and continues...I launch myself across the court, into walls, onto the floor and into the glass dozens of times for about an hour.   I manage to hit a few okay shots, and even score a few measly points, but I have a whole new respect for the racquet sport.  It is humbling to say the least, but a totally and completely new way of working out, challenging my mind, my body and my competitive streak and it's a lot of fun.  It takes all the edge out of my everyday routine and reminds me of what sports are supposed to be about...having fun.  I feel like a kid all over again, and spend much of the hour smiling and even laughing at times.

 Three water breaks, four games to ZERO, and about a gallon of sweat later my partner looks at me and says, "nice job, I am impressed."  I barely hear what he says above my breathing.  He's barely broken a sweat, and completely one hundred percent schooled me.  I try to remain composed and return his smile.
"Thanks," I say, "that was fun."
"Again tomorrow?" He asks.
"Ummm....totally." I  respond wondering if when tomorrow comes I will even be able to move, but already...I can't wait to try it again.