I ran for cover as my
partner rushed to the net with her racket raised high over her head and cried
"haaaaaaa ya". The poor shuttle was destroyed as she hit a
smash over the net and we won the game 21-16. The smile
never left her face for the remainder of the day and since it was just 9 in the
morning, it was a good ten hours before the day wound down.
Sub-consciously I think we kind of tried to outdo each other (I always failed and then I gave up). I was the serenest of the lot! That game of badminton set the tone for the rest of our day. Win or lose, we moved, ran, rushed, sweated a hell of a lot and it was so refreshing at the end of the hour. Total workout guaranteed and it was so much better than the gym-based workout and If I am to be honest any orchaestrated workout that might be current rage.It was too much of a good thing for a whole one hour. Since it was seven to eight of us, the game always continued even if two of us had to drop out. Everybody hit the court at 8.30 sharp, looking sharp, brandishing rackets and feeling like that battery bunny. Our game improved collectively, our drop shots and smashes were to die for. There was absolutely no awkwardness in moving however we wanted. The freedom was intoxicating, quite the opposite of what women experience in public life, while walking on the sidewalk, or waiting in the back, in a queue or on the bus. We move in a man’s world conscious of ourselves, worrying too much about our clothes and and our actions, our movements, adjusting our bra straps and pulling up our t-shirts.I am so tempted to get on the rant train right now. However I shall concentrate in the fitness aspect of it first and then jump on the feminist bandwagon tomorrow. Playing a sport allows you the luxury of exercise without being so aware of it or being bored by it. The hands of the clock moved magically fast and before you now it, the hour is up, your muscles are sore, you are stretching to negate the effects of crazily lunging at the net trying to return a drop shot. It gives you the gift of easy comaraderie and kinship. It builds around you a bubble for that hour to rave and rant through your game or gab about the kids or the hubby who has been unreasonable of late. You can have an intensive 15 minute workout, take a break and gossip about anything and everything. You can celebrate with your mates or you can off- load your rage. We were there for each other and god did we take advantage! It was one of the best eighteen months of playing badminton and making friends. After a year and a half, I guess we had run our course, people moved out of the city, got jobs, struggled with their fitness and we eventually fizzled out. The friendship remains though. Birthdays are remembered and wishes sent out on watsapp. Plans are made to get together and everyone responds with enthusiasiasm. The moral of this story ofcourse is to pick up a sport girls! Be it baddy or tennis or even frisbee, anything that makes you move, help you shed those inhibitions and score!
Sub-consciously I think we kind of tried to outdo each other (I always failed and then I gave up). I was the serenest of the lot! That game of badminton set the tone for the rest of our day. Win or lose, we moved, ran, rushed, sweated a hell of a lot and it was so refreshing at the end of the hour. Total workout guaranteed and it was so much better than the gym-based workout and If I am to be honest any orchaestrated workout that might be current rage.It was too much of a good thing for a whole one hour. Since it was seven to eight of us, the game always continued even if two of us had to drop out. Everybody hit the court at 8.30 sharp, looking sharp, brandishing rackets and feeling like that battery bunny. Our game improved collectively, our drop shots and smashes were to die for. There was absolutely no awkwardness in moving however we wanted. The freedom was intoxicating, quite the opposite of what women experience in public life, while walking on the sidewalk, or waiting in the back, in a queue or on the bus. We move in a man’s world conscious of ourselves, worrying too much about our clothes and and our actions, our movements, adjusting our bra straps and pulling up our t-shirts.I am so tempted to get on the rant train right now. However I shall concentrate in the fitness aspect of it first and then jump on the feminist bandwagon tomorrow. Playing a sport allows you the luxury of exercise without being so aware of it or being bored by it. The hands of the clock moved magically fast and before you now it, the hour is up, your muscles are sore, you are stretching to negate the effects of crazily lunging at the net trying to return a drop shot. It gives you the gift of easy comaraderie and kinship. It builds around you a bubble for that hour to rave and rant through your game or gab about the kids or the hubby who has been unreasonable of late. You can have an intensive 15 minute workout, take a break and gossip about anything and everything. You can celebrate with your mates or you can off- load your rage. We were there for each other and god did we take advantage! It was one of the best eighteen months of playing badminton and making friends. After a year and a half, I guess we had run our course, people moved out of the city, got jobs, struggled with their fitness and we eventually fizzled out. The friendship remains though. Birthdays are remembered and wishes sent out on watsapp. Plans are made to get together and everyone responds with enthusiasiasm. The moral of this story ofcourse is to pick up a sport girls! Be it baddy or tennis or even frisbee, anything that makes you move, help you shed those inhibitions and score!
