Tennis lesson #4

Last night's lesson was the first time I felt like I might be able to take all of the things I've learned and actually play a round of tennis. The entire hour was spent playing with different classmates. It was nerve wracking at first because we're all at different levels, but as the class went on I could really see why rotating play with everyone was so important to the learning process. It was just really good practice.

I boldly proclaimed to two opponents that we were learning, so therefore there would be no “I'm sorrys” shouted out when we missed shots. It's so liberating to be unapologetic and to offer that to other people. In both cases, the women (I didn't hear any of my male opponents offer apologies, by the way) laughed and said, “Okay.”

We played for awhile and then we were gathered around a court to watch two of our teachers play each other. They make it look so easy. I laughed and commented to a woman standing nearby that our teacher was doing all of that AND talking to us the entire time. He talked to us about what they were observing in our play that could be improved on. It was really helpful.

The refining takeaways from this class were:

1. the Bermuda Triangle – the spot in front of the base line that many people stand in that makes it easy for them to get the short shots but almost impossible to get to the longer shots.
2. Stay in ready position – both hands on the racquet so you are ready for every shot - forehand or backhand.
3. Let the ball come to you rather than chasing and hacking away in the air with the racquet.

I commented to one of my teachers just how much there is to think about when playing. I told him I just thought it was hitting the ball over the net. I also said it would be fun to watch tennis on television now because I'd know what I was looking at and be better able to appreciate just how talented and skilled those players are.

One more class to go. I will absolutely sign up for more classes, but I still have a lot to accomplish on the 4040 list. Once I clear off a few more of the physical components – skating lessons, ziplining, rock climbing, and the 5k – I'll be ready to hit the court again. More than ready.

Tennis lesson #3 - Recap

I DID NOT expect to enjoy tennis lessons so much. It was a sport that had intrigued me in the last few years, and I wanted to try it, but I figured I'd take the lessons and that would be it. Another check off my list.

After this week's lesson, I actually lamented "Only two lessons to go." I like that the game challenges me and that I have to work at it. I like that it is also giving me an opportunity to practice being gentle with myself as I am exposed to new aspects of the mechanics of the game that aren't exactly coming naturally.

We did this fun drill running from one court to the next working on different skills. I couldn't believe how much I really enjoyed it. I could feel how all the things I am learning are starting to gel, and then...

We were introduced to The Serve. One of the teachers walked us through breaking down the move. I keep thinking of tennis as a new piece of choreography to learn, and the moves get easier.

He explained that we should think of the serve in terms of the face of a clock. The racquet starts in front of you at three o'clock position then moves down to the floor at six o'clock then back behind to nine o'clock. The racquet pauses at the back of the neck (creating a halo near the head) before moving up to twelve o'clock at which point the ball is tossed and the racquet (hopefully) hits the ball over the net.

(It's taken me a few days to write about this lesson because in the process of practicing The Serve, I tweaked my back. It was hard for me to move my neck side to side until Thursday. I didn't want my discomfort to unfairly color my recap.)

I felt the tweak occur as it happened and knew I was going to be in pain. I can only imagine the awkward moves my body made to put myself in prime “tweak one's back” mode. Gentle, Julie, Gentle. I commend my teachers for keeping a straight face through that. It must have been hilarious.

The Serve is such a new thing to me that I didn't have the muscle memory to recognize what I was doing quite right. I received some really helpful feedback. I also noticed that I my back leg kept lifting after I finished serving. I asked my teachers why I was doing it since I know it isn't part of The Serve. After one joked that I was adding style to the move, he helped me understand that I am likely counterbalancing the racquet's swing forward. I'm going to work on toning down my style and keeping my foot on the ground...at least for awhile.

I look forward to Monday's class and seeing how my serve improves. Two lessons left and then #15 gets crossed off the 4040 list. And my friends who play tennis (all out-of-towners) need to move here...or at least come for a visit!

John Tyler President #10 - Recap

I continue to be grateful for stumbling on the American Presidents Series. They are well-written, interesting, and concentrate on brevity. This series may be the only way I get through this Presidential reading project before I turn fifty. Just nine years and 9 months to go. Whoa.

The John Tyler biography was written by Gary May.

President Harry Truman's family long believed that they were related to President John Tyler. He was relieved to later learn that it was another John Tyler and not the President that they were related to. Truman said this of President Tyler: "No one can charge John Tyler with a lack of courage. He resigned from the Senate because he did not agree with Andrew Jackson, but I can never forgive him for leaving his party to join the Whigs, or for leaving the Union in 1861." He also thought that Tyler "didn't amount to a great deal."

John Tyler's presidency held several firsts in American history:

1. First Vice President to assume the presidency upon the death of a president. Vice Presidents before Tyler had been considered not particularly important and would often stay home and conduct their own business away from Washington.

2. First President to become widowed during office. His beloved wife, Letitia, died within his first year of office.

3. First sitting President to marry during office. He remarried a woman thirty years his junior, Julia Gardiner.

4. First time impeachment was suggested. Rascally Henry Clay was behind these motivations.

John Quincy Adams had no use for John Tyler. Tyler's biographer included journal entries from John Quincy Adams's vast collection of journals. It turns out he was kind of cranky and whiny. Who isn't when he or she is writing in their own journal? But it was interesting to read Quincy Adams's views. He certainly had a unique vantage point having served as president.

After Harrison died, John QA considered Tyler "Acting President" only.

"But Tyler, within hours of his arrival in Washington, showed the Whig cabinet he was stronger than they had expected."

I was impressed with the speech Tyler gave to Harrison's, and now his, cabinet: "I am very glad to have in my cabinet such able statesmen as you have proved yourselves to be. And I shall avail myself of your counsel and advice. But I can never consent to being dictated to. I am the President and I shall be responsible for my administration."

LOVE THAT!

"Tyler must have been pleased with his first day as president. He established a precedent that would affect the future of the presidency long after he left office and he had managed to keep Harrison's government intact, which provided stability at a critical time."

John Tyler was the last Virginia president and had personal encounters with the Virginia Dynasty men. He looked up to these men. He was also a slave owner, and not a lukewarm one, like Washington (who understood that the practice was not right and not sustainable). He was southern through and through and believed in the institution as part of the fabric of the South.

DO NOT LOVE THAT!

I should be saying something about his role in the annexation of Texas. It was very important to him, but I got lost in the details. I hope that reading James Polk's biography will help me see it from a different perspective and have a better handle on it.

Here are two last quotes that encapsulate John Tyler's presidency:

"Tyler found himself on the wrong side of history, left the Union, died a traitor, his good deeds forever tainted by his final years."

"For good and ill, Tyler preserved and defended the office from those who wished to fundamentally change it. By boldly assuming the full powers and prerogatives of the presidency upon Harrison's death, he established what came to be known as the Tyler "Precedent," not only ensuring the orderly transfer of power in his time but by making the office "independent of death," guaranteeing that future accidental presidents could govern with authority.

P.S. According to this article, John Tyler still has living GRANDSONS. Tyler fathered children with his younger wife into his seventies and then one of his sons had children late in life as well. That is mind boggling!

Love Letter to My People

It really is not fair that I, Julie, should have THE MOST AMAZING GROUP OF FRIENDS EVER ASSEMBLED ON PLANET EARTH all for myself. But alas, it’s the truth. I have the best friends ever.

They are with me arm-and-arm through the ups and downs of life, and I am so grateful. A few live nearby, but most of them live out-of-state or at least a few hours away. The long-distance ones are just a text or Facebook message away, and are always at the ready to offer whatever I seem to need at the moment. They love me as I am. They know my strengths, shortcomings, sensitivities, passions. They love me toward the direction of the best version of myself. These people are a diverse group of people: women and men, my age and thirty years my senior, different life perspectives and varying professions. All of this variety creates a deep well of wisdom from which to draw.

Their companionship is particularly amazing as I give birth to myself as a writer.

They, more than me, believe this writer-thing is real and that my life will change because of it. They even believe others’ lives will change because of it. (Cue tears now.) They are dreaming big, believing big, and taking me along for the ride.

My friend, TW, has self-identified as my book tour groupie. She calls me “the personality” and daydreams about “bringing me tea.” It makes me smile every time I think of it, and makes me want to write more and better words. Because of her, I’ve begun mentally assembling the book tour wardrobe I will pack and adding places I want to go to the book tour line-up.

Today I read this post by one of our mutually favorite writers, Glennon Doyle Melton, the author of Carry On, Warrior. It made me GOL (giggle out loud). I texted TW to alert her to the fact that it was must-read material.

TW soon texted me this reply, “I solemnly swear I will NEVER EVER let you use those chicken cutlet fake boobies.” Given my recent posts about being skinny and accepting it, I love TW’s assertion that she will help me stay true to myself. Another hallmark of true friendship.

Since there is no way for me to express to these people the depth of my gratitude, I’m using 300 rejections as my megaphone to broadcast how much I love them and how grateful I am for their love, laughter, honesty, and desire for me to be the best Julie I can be. I so want to make them proud.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!

Bikini Post Script

I kept thinking about the things I wrote about body image and wearing a bikini at forty and realized there were some important things that were left unwritten in the first post. I’ve corrected my omission below.

As I watched the recent Oscars broadcast with friends, a comment was made about one actress’s bones prominently protruding at her shoulders. The comment struck me. It was harmless enough, but to my sensitive ears, there was just a hint of disdain. I saw myself standing on that red carpet. The bones at the top of my shoulders protrude like hers. And news flash: there’s nothing I can do to make them stop doing that. Perhaps this actress could buck the Hollywood trend and eat more (if that in fact is the issue), but for me eating more won’t change my bony frame. I’ve tried.

Disapproving comments seem rude only when aimed at women who struggle with their weight. (And that, as we all have heard, doesn’t stop the comments from coming.) But I can personally attest to the fact that when someone suggests that perhaps I am anorexic she is not paying me a compliment. She's being rude.

Being inherently skinny in a weight-obsessed culture is a tricky place to dwell because of two assumptions that are readily made. These assumptions lump me in with groups of women with whom I do not self-identify: women who work hard at staying thin and women who struggle with eating disorders.

I have simply inherited slimness from an unlikely source—my maternal grandfather. I also have a diminished sense of smell, which impacts my enjoyment of eating because most food tastes bland. On top of that, I am a stress non-eater, so when life presses down especially hard, my appetite evaporates. I can go a long time without feeling hunger. The combination of these three things contributes to my slim build.

I find myself in an unpopulated category. Enviably slim, but underweight with little hope of gaining weight. Who in America has THAT problem? Two different doctors have reminded me that I’m “a tall drink of water” and that this thinness of mine is not an affliction. They have encouraged me to enjoy being thin with the underestanding that I might gain weight as I age.

Making my way through all of this, I realize that for a long time I have worried about what people who do not know me might think about my skinny frame and the assumptions they might make. And as I type this, I realize part of owning that pink and charcoal bikini this summer means not caring one damn bit. I know the skinny on my being skinny and that's all that matters.

For years I loathed clothes shopping. It was rarely fun. It took trying on forty pairs of jeans to find two that fit. Not two that I liked, but two that simply fit. Those days are behind me. I am far more comfortable in my skin at 40. I know what looks good on tall and lean and I gravitate to those things. I wear skirts and boots because I have great legs. I even wear skinny jeans.

Most importantly, I am mothering a daughter. Though our body types are different, I want her to watch me be kind and compassionate toward myself and my body. One way I can demonstrate that is when I confidently wear my new bikini with my chin lifted, my shoulders back, and a smile on my face. No more hiding. No more worrying.

It's almost swimsuit season

I am eating a package of Oreos as I write this post. That fact cracks me up given the topic at hand.

I read this beautiful post by Sarah Bessey last fall after I'd filled in the 40 blanks that became the 4040 list. I recognized myself in her essay, but not for mainstream reasons.

I've abhorred the word skinny for years. It sounded derogatory to my ears. I preferred lithe, svelte, willowy. But the truth is: I am skinny. Accepting that is huge: I AM SKINNY.

I haven't worn a bikini since before my daughter was born almost eight years ago, and certainly never wore one with any great confidence. My shoulders slumped to camouflage my flat chest. I kept my chin lowered and hid underneath towels. People not built like me may find this hard to understand. For women who struggle with their weight, I imagine their struggle is about feeling like they have or are too much. When a woman is underweight, the message she hears is she is NOT ENOUGH. For years, despite having the measurements of a runway model, I heard society's message tell me I wasn't enough because I had no cleavage, no curves, and have a flat ass. When I had to have a c-section, people later said that the c-section confirmed what they had thought all along: that I was too small to deliver her on my own. A c-section confirmed that my baby wasn't in a good position for a safe and natural delivery. That is all it confirmed.

For readers who struggle with losing weight, my perspective must seem aggravating to read. "You can eat whatever you want." "You can wear whatever you want." Neither of these statements are true. I have a family history of high cholesterol. There is such a thing as skinny fat, and I'm not interested in falling into that category. I watch what I eat to ensure that my food choices do not contribute to heart disease or high cholesterol. I wear a button down top with darts and they cave in. I can't hold up a strapless dress.

So back to the bikini. Like every woman who has given birth, I am marked by my pregnancy eight years ago. My belly, though blessedly flat, has a definite wibble. And why wouldn't it? I carried an extra 60 pounds and had three times the amniotic fluid of normal pregnancies. I previously believed that for that reason the wibbly belly should remain covered forevermore. And then I read Sarah's post and decided to reconsider my position on this particular woman in a bikini. I'm done listening to the messages that only a certain woman's shape is desirable or acceptable.

Yoga, running, and tennis have reintroduced me to my body. As it turns out, I am strong. My arms and core keep me afloat above my mat in chataranga during my daily Sun Saluations. (This took more than three years to achieve.) My long legs propel me forward as I train for my race. My back shows the muscled definition of thousands of downward dogs and other yoga poses.

And so.

This summer as my daughter drags me to the pool because she she still loves her body and how it feels to splash, dive, and swim in the pool, I will be wearing this.

I will be owning it. Pool side. Sunglasses shading my eyes. Book in my lap. A 40-year-old woman in a bikini.

Rambling thoughts about being inspired by my daughter

I really cannot wait to see what my daughter chooses to do with her life.

As I type, she's watching PBS kids, finishing her cereal, and cutting strips of decorative duct tape to make bookmarks. The plan is to sell them with her friend, G, this summer out in our neighborhood.

She's an encourager. There's no doubt about that. She encouraged me to get started on my page a day this morning. The luxury of time (this is her last day of spring break, so I took the day off) is hurting my ability to focus and come up with something to write. She's watched me fold laundry as a time filler.

She just asked me, "Is your page done?" When I admitted that no, it isn't done, I haven't started and don't have one clue what to write, this is what she said: "Well, where is Astrid now?" She's a second grade expert on personal narrative. Next week they'll begin a unit on historical fiction. She knows a few things about writing herself. She continued, "Astrid and her best friend could have a girls' night out. They could go get their nails done. Do things to get her mind off being sad about her husband."

Readers, my daughter will be eight in a few weeks. She takes my breath away. She is so earnest in her attempts to help me.

Then she asked me if writing this book is on my 4040 list. I told her no. "Then you don't HAVE to do it." I smiled. "Oh, yes, I must. I've set a goal, and must achieve it."

I am grateful for her buy-in to this project, which in a short few months has fed my soul deeply. There are so many lessons we can learn together in this process: perseverance, goal-setting, how to face setbacks, disappointments, and rejection, having vision, dreaming BIG, to name a few.

Now that I've warmed up my fingers at the keyboard, it's time to dig in and get that page written.

PS: I LOVE that she wants my character to get her nails done. My daughter is a "get her nails done" kind of girl. Art imitating life, right there.