“Honestly, tomorrow’s looking beautiful… should we…?” I texted my pickleball groupies.
“I am so there.”
“Down.”
“Say less.”
And so it came to be that tonight at 5:30pm I was playing pickleball in March with a few good friends on a 68º day.
My friend Maddie and I, admittedly, got wrecked (Mom and Clare, if you’re reading, yes, Kyle is very good), but it was not for lack of trying. I ended up horizontal on the court a total of three times and am gently concerned about my right butt muscle after a particularly insane run up to the net.
But ohhhh man, did we have fun.
When we could no longer see the ball well enough to make contact, we took down my net and pow wow’d on the fake grass adjacent to the court, munching on our pre-dinner granola bars and basking in our good fortune of having a lovely Tuesday evening.