There’s something that quietly, relentlessly, has become part of my journey back into tennis. Pain.
Not the acute kind that stops you in your tracks.
No, this one is more subtle, more insistent.
A background noise. A loyal, annoying companion.
I honestly can’t remember a period of my life where pain was such a constant presence.
There’s always something. A muscle, a joint, a tendon whispering (or screaming) its discomfort.
Getting into the car? Ouch.
Picking something up from the floor? Ugh.
Climbing stairs? Hah, funny reminder that yes, I did sprint for a drop shot yesterday.
The Body Speaks
My hamstrings are a perfect barometer of how hard I’ve been pushing.
Especially on defense, those sudden, explosive sprints to retrieve drop shots? They leave a legacy.
Tight, stiff legs that groan with every movement.
Then there’s my deltoid. I’ve recently started training the backhand from an open stance.
A necessary evolution in my game, but my shoulder doesn’t seem to be on board with the idea.
Every swing is a negotiation between form and pain.
After a long match, especially the ones where I end up serving more than expected, there’s that deep ache in the gluteus medius and lower back.
It doesn’t scream. It just settles in.
A reminder of the hours spent loading and unloading energy through that kinetic chain.
Lately, my wrist has started chiming in, too.
I’ve been adjusting my technique to generate more spin.
It’s working, but there’s a price.
The wrist isn’t used to this load, this angle, this insistence.
And it’s making its opinion known.
And Yet...
I don’t complain (much).
Because this pain it’s useful.
It draws a clear map of my current limitations. It tells me where the edges are.
Where not to go, yet.
But also where to come back to later, stronger, smarter.
This pain reminds me I’m doing something. Something difficult. Something worthy.
It tells me I’m in motion.
Commonly, but incorrectly, attributed to Don Quixote:
“Ladran, Sancho, señal que cabalgamos.”
They bark, Sancho, that means we ride.
The pain is just the barking. And I keep riding.
So yes, pain is here with me.
But instead of pushing it away, I’ve learned to listen to it. To let it teach me, slow me down when needed, and push me when I’m ready.
Because as long as it’s barking… I know I’m still riding.
See you on the court,
with sore legs, a full heart, and a racket in hand.
—Il Tennista
