competition · team sports

Ellen learns Pickleball, Humility, and Self Acceptance

By Ellen B

I am a person who has avoided team sports since early life. As a child, I was often the last person picked for teams due to my exceptionally short stature of 4”10” and a general lack of coordination. 

These experiences chipped away at my fledgling self confidence, so as a teenager, I made the decision to participate in individual sports exclusively.  This way I didn’t have to concern myself with letting down the team. 

One bright spot in my early sporting experience was hitting a tennis ball against the schoolyard wall.  At the time, I had good aim and reasonable hand eye coordination. 

Fast forward to today, many decades later, I had heard about a sport called Pickleball.  I thought it might be a good way to tackle my team sport anxieties, since it only involves teams of two.   Besides, two of the ways I find joy in life is to move my body and make new friends and Pickleball is known for meeting both these needs.  So, with great enthusiasm, I joined the new Pickleball club in Guelph and enrolled in some group lessons, convinced that joy and renewed confidence in team sport would soon be at hand!

Little did I know that it would also remind me of some important life lessons about self acceptance, humility, and the importance of laughing at myself despite it all.

We played “real games” right from the start of the lessons.  For those of you new to the sport, pickleball involve playing with a partner and learning three basic strokes (forehand, backhand and volley), on a court that is shorter than those for other racquet sports.   I had bought myself a paddle and attended my first class with optimism. To my great surprise, I had overestimated my ability to land the ball anywhere near my opponent!  In fact, getting the ball into any part of the court without someone shouting “OUT” turned out to be a big challenge. Other times, I would swing at the ball and miss it entirely with my opponents mischievously inquiring about the hole in the middle of my paddle.  One time I returned the ball and it hit my opponent in the face! 

At first, I was able to laugh at these newcomer errors, but as others progressed passed me in skill level, that old feeling of not want to play sports with others returned. I noticed that others who were slower to gain skill were starting to drop out and I considered doing the same thing.  Those old feelings of shame and embarrassment I had when I was a child had resurfaced in full force. In fact, soon I found myself warning all of my partners that I was “not very good or even terrible”, before we even got started in the game. 

As many sports enthusiasts know, this type of self-deprecating dialogue actually worsens performance and does not cultivate team spirit. Mindset is a big part of success in sport, I knew this from running races.  I needed to change my thinking in order to succeed and have fun, but how would I do this when such deep-rooted messaging was at play?

Then an idea dawned on me…to get past my self-defeating thoughts, why don’t I view pickleball as a form of therapy, with strategies that my psychiatric patients learn in treatment?

For instance, I could use some positive affirmations before playing and practice opposite action to the negative thought during the game.  I could also view pickleball as a type of exposure therapy to difficult circumstances and perhaps this would help to reduce my anxiety and self consciousness other aspects of my life. And, how about developing some humour, laughing at my wild shots and not take myself seriously? After all, it is just a game and the goal is to get some exercise AND have some fun.  

I am happy to report that with an adjusted attitude; I am slowly but surely approaching the game from a new perspective. In fact, this week I took the giant leap of playing in a tournament with 50 other folks at all different skill levels.  I lost most of my games, but rather than telling folks I was terrible, I simply advised my partners that I am a beginner while keeping a smile on my face. This in itself helped me to land more shots in the court and actually win a few points. One of the great aspects of the Pickleball culture is to offer positive reinforcement to both teammates and opponents and there was plenty of that at the tournament. 

After four hours of “pickleballing”, our team made it to the tournament finals. All the other players were too tired to play, so my partner and I were nominated to play with the best team in the league, with 40 other participants watching!  Just before the game, the team captain whispered to me, “just do the best you can” and that stuck with me.  I saw him in the crowd smiling and cheering me on and that helped too. Even though we lost the game, folks congratulated us and we were reminded that we were courageous to take on such skilled players. 

Changing hard wired messaging is difficult for sure and sometimes I slip backwards, but overall, I am moving forward and I can take some satisfaction from that. This experience has also reminded me of 3 important concepts of sportsmanship and life:

1st: I am much harder on myself than anyone else ever will be and besides, everyone else more concerned about their own game than my playing. 

2nd: Forget about what others are thinking, it is likely not as bad as you think and besides, you are not in the schoolyard, you are an adult with coping strategies at hand. And you are here to have fun!

3rd: Through my work, I have learned that one way of defining humility is to remind myself that in life, I am no better or worse than anyone else.  Reminding myself of this helps to avoid the tendency towards self centred criticism both on and off the court. 
I hope to see you all on the court someday for some laughter, exercise and maybe even some personal growth!

Pickleball Ellen

Ellen B., lives in Guelph, Ontario and works as a psychiatric nurse.   In her free time, you can find her sailing with her partner or on the court practicing her shots with new friends. 

fitness

What’s going well in your life? #GroupBlogPost #June

Diane

I stretched myself to do a new thing and it didn’t suck. Photo was taken by my friend Henry Troup.

Sam

For me it’s walking.  Wow.  After two knee replacements it feels so good to be able to walk pretty much as far as I want.  I’m walking lots in Toronto and walking lots with Cheddar.  It makes me so very happy.

Walking with Cheddar

Elan

Work life balance. It has not always been this way, and I am equally lucky to have both right now.

Catherine

I’m really enjoying focusing on my home environment right now. I am clearing out old books and clothes, ushering in a new mattress, organizing my craft stuff, and plotting new paint colors for my dining room. I’m looking at some soft yellows and gray-blues at the moment.

A yellow and blue dining room, but not my pick of shades. by Hakam Magdea-Fardana for Unsplash.
A yellow and blue dining room, but not my pick of shades. by Hakam Magdea-Fardana for Unsplash.
Sat with Nat

Nat is delighted to be photographed

I’m sitting at work and get a Teams message from my buddy Brian.

“Are you at the office today? Would you mind being photographed? It’s commuter challenge week. Did you bike in?”

You bet I biked in! I found out that many people who bike to work did not want their photo taken.

I met up with three other cycling commuters and we had some photos taken. It took ten minutes.

The photographer admitted she was surprised how hard it is to get folks to agree to be photographed.

We chatted a bit about how to overcome objections and the importance of having lots of people in published materials.

I was glad someone thought of me and I hope the photos get used to show that there are lots of bodies that bicycle.

Biking to work has helped me mentally and physically. I’m well on my way to exceeding 1,300 km I biked last year. A lot of little trips add up fast!

A snapshot of my mileage to date this year, 914 km. I’m likely not hitting my goal of 2,500 before the end of July though.
fitness

What’s a self care activity to do this weekend? #GroupBlogPost, #June

Diane

Nap, garden, read a book. I will not be doing any of those things. Instead, I’ll be driving for hours in order to stand around in the heat and perform in front of strangers. I will try to remember to hydrate and wear sun screen.

Napping orange cat

Elan

I have a big busy day on Saturday. I got invited to something fun on Sunday. Although I felt the FOMO, I know I will be tired for the rest of the short weekend so I declined in the spirit of self-care.

Balloons against a blue sky. Pexels.

Sam

I’ll be at the farm on the weekend so whatever else we get up to I’ll enjoy some time in the hot tub and reading with coffee outside.

starry night over santa teresa rooftop tub
Hot tub. Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com

Catherine

I’m indulging in social activities that are fun and happen to be converging this weekend: storyteller concert Thursday night; comedy show Friday night, volunteering at a garden tour Saturday, and Sun double-header of church garden party and book club dinner/discussion. My self care will happen on Monday when I stay home, do laundry and work in the quiet of my place.

assorted color flowers
Flowers. Photo by Leigh Patrick on Pexels.com

Cate

Use my inhaler because the wildfire smoke is triggering my asthma big time.

How about you? What’s a self-care activity you’ve planned for this weekend?

fitness

Fitness trackers redux

I love my fitness tracker. It’s dying though and I am going back and forth between getting a new one or going without. It’s not fancy — it keeps tracks of steps, it sends me happy high fives when I lots of steps in an hour, and it goes cracked when I reach or exceed my goal. I get actually get fireworks when I check the app and see I have exceeded 10k in steps.

Photo of brightly coloured fireworks in a dark sky by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash

These past couple of weeks have been more active than usual, mostly because I started actively cleaning my house after acquiring a bunch of furniture and mementoes from two households over the last two years. Stairs really help I have discovered. Also adding to the step count were multiple trips where I packed and shifted boxes from house to car and from car to donation centres.

It’s also finally summer here where I live and the weather is more than conducive for walks as well as weeding and planning new garden beds.

I learned a couple of things from my tracker — I work in bursts and I prefer to be standing up rather than sitting down. Why does this matter? My day job often finds me sitting at a desk. The exceptions are when I teach or when I facilitate groups. I have tried standing desks and they don’t work for me, likely because I am standing in the same place vs sitting in the same place.

My next experiment in intentional movement is applying the lessons I learned with the Pomodoro technique — where you work for 20 minutes, then take a five-minute break — to see how I can do my work and get some activity. Rather than check my email or grab a cup of tea in that five-minute break, I’m going to add some stretches, some stair climbing, or weeding in those five minutes. A friend has recommended I pick a 20-minute segment where I deal with emails as part of my work schedule, and the key words there are “deal with” instead of just skimming them in that five-minute window.

What types of hacks are you trying to get more movement in your day? Let us know in the comments.

MarthaFitat55 lives and works in St. John’s. In the past, she has rowed, yoga’d, swum, and run. These days, she likes to spend her gym time picking up heavy things and putting them down again.

fitness

Loving swimming ♥️

I’m excited about swimming next week at the Guelph Y. And I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I enjoy moving in the water.

I’ve also been going through old blog posts,  tidying things up, and I came across this older,  moving post of Tracy’s.

I’m sharing it again so you can appreciate it.

A swimming pool
aging · celebration · feminism · fitness

Honouring my First and Best Feminist Ally

Dad died a few weeks ago. He was not an obvious feminist ally at first glance; he started his 48 year military career back in the 1950s, not exactly the most progressive of times. He didn’t speak up much, and though he delighted in talking about politics from time to time, he was in his 80s before I knew his voting preferences.

He also didn’t talk about feminism or women’s rights, at least not directly. He did, however, delight in his all-female family, starting with my Mom. She was a rebel, having left her home in rural Alberta for Toronto, having her own career, and having and keeping a child (me) at a time when doing so outside of marriage was almost unheard of. They dated for a month, decided on a Tuesday to get married on a Saturday, and were deeply in love for 63 years.

Dad and Mom at my son’s wedding in 2023. Dad never missed a chance to sneak a kiss, and Mom was always happy to oblige.

My sister and I were raised to believe there was almost nothing we couldn’t do if that was what we wanted. Olympic swimming goals and my career as a concert pianist were derailed by lack of swim club and musical talent, but he happily paid for and drove me to all those swimming and piano lessons, even when money was very tight. Though he never finished high school himself, he encouraged and supported both of us to go to university (my sister did journalism, law, and ethics; I did music, political science, French and international development).

One of my favourite memories is the time he lamented that he hadn’t been a good role model because neither my sister nor I were married. No Dad, you were the best model. You showed us what being a great partner and father looked like, and we weren’t prepared to settle for anything less.

Dad, in Mom’s favourite picture of him.
fitness

What’s a small win from your week so far? #GroupBlogPost #MorningWriting #June

Christine

Since starting my “commute” to work plan on Monday I have found the beginning of my workday to be a lot more straightforward.

Catherine

My win is putting together 5 bags of books to donate because I was feeling too low-energy to work on my upcoming conference paper. Feeling accomplished, cheerier and now also peppier… 🙂

Diane

Today was a day filled with estate paperwork but I got through it just in time for a walk with a friend. My neighbourhood smells glorious in the evening.

Flowers in the neighbourhood

Sam

Sitting outside on our new outdoor sofa with coffee.

Martha

My win will be getting on a plane with my soul intact after navigating all the new luggage rules and wrapping up my last minute bits.

How about you? What a small win in your week?

macro photo of fly on dandelion seed head
Photo by D H J on Pexels.com

fitness

What’s a way we can show kindess to ourselves and to others? #June #GroupBlogPost

Elan

Say to yourself or to others, “It is good to see you. I am really glad you showed up today.”

Nicole

I remind myself I don’t own the sidewalk. I am constantly annoyed by others. I remind myself of this so I don’t complain out loud.

Sidewalk

Martha

I give people the benefit of the doubt when things have gone pear-shaped. No one needs to know my story nor do I need to know others to show people, including myself some grace.

Sam

Like Martha, I try to assume that we’re all doing our best and have good motives.

Cate

Diane

Just be kind? I try to see other points of view and not say anything if I can’t say something nice. When I succeed, I feel like I have been kind to myself.

Christine

I think one of the most important ways I show kindness to others is by asking what they need in the moment instead of just working from assumptions.

I show kindness to myself by adding extra time to my plans so I reduce the stress that is baked into my ADHD.

Be kind
fitness

Saying Goodbye to My High Heels

I have a bunion on my right big toe. Also, arthritis. Same toe. Poor little digit. A first cortisone shot, disappeared the pain. For about 18 months. Then it came back last summer after a sprained left ankle wobbled my gait, putting more pressure on my right foot. A second cortisone shot provided short-lived relief. My doctor warned me about the diminishing returns. I didn’t expect them to be quite so diminished. Now the pain has flared to a steady, yet manageable level. I’m allowed to run. Even moderately long distances.

What I can’t do is wear heels. And I love heels. I used to be able to not only wear heels but also walk miles in them. Ridiculous. Vertiginous. Platform. Spike. Precarious. I felt sexy and kick ass. I loved them all the more, because I wore the heels after running miles. I loved the crackle of the contradictory footwear coexisting and all the meaning they contained about who I was.  I wasn’t only girly. I wasn’t only a runner.

Of course, the heels weren’t truly comfortable. My feet would be sore at the end of an evening. Well, my feet were sore at the end of a long run, too. I was thrilled when Citibike (the shared social bike system) came to New York. Less walking in heels. More riding a bike in heels (so fun). I’m not sure which one caused the bunion—the running or the heels. I have my suspicions, based on which one has become inaccessible. In the end, it doesn’t matter. The pain is.

I would look in my closet and long to wear the heels so neatly aligned on my shoe rack. Every once in a while, I would try to put them on, searing myself with the pain. Why couldn’t I just get rid of them? After all, I’ve been in purge mode these last couple of years. I left my marriage with almost nothing from our joint home. I moved around a bit, trimming down my life. I shaved off my long hair.

Yet, I’ve never parted with my heels, even as I knew I couldn’t wear them. Then, a month ago, I thought, now is the time. I sent a little video tour of the shoes to a friend who wears the same size. I brought her a giant bag of heels on the night of my birthday. I am so glad she’s going to enjoy them.

I also felt an amount of grief that I judged to be inordinate. They’re just shoes. Yes. And they were a symbol of a part of me that I don’t want to lose. Insouciant. Bold. Attractive. Now I have to find that in myself, without the shoe-assist. Or maybe that sense of self is already there, if I can just find it. I felt good in heels, because I was strong. A runner. An athlete.  Not was. Am. Because I’m still running (and biking and dancing and cross-country skiing and, and …). In the choice between running shoes and heels, there’s no contest. My running shoes are soulmates.  

The night my marriage blew apart, I went out to meet a friend in desperation. As I walked out the door of what would soon no longer be my home, the high heel on my patent leather boot from Paris snapped off. Total destruction. No chance of repair. It’s been just over three years since that night. A few days ago, I learned that my divorce was final. I had dinner with the same friend a few hours later. Wearing sneakers with glitter. She was wearing fabulous, crazy platform sandals. I felt a pique of desire for her shoes. For that feeling. And then I caught a glimpse of that sparkle inside of me. Waiting for me to see myself.