It Takes Three To Tennis

I figure that this would be the perfect time to start another post which is sort of, not really, related to sports. I say this because the 2008 Olympics in China will be starting in.. well, soon.

I had one of those moments where it was hilarious in retrospect, but completely not at the time. After spending the entire week cruising the sales racks, I decided to give my wallet a break from all the work out. I decided to give myself an actual workout that isn't yoga, pilates or yogilates. I decided to play tennis. 

I decided to attempt to play tennis.

Today I woke up, fresh and ethusiastic about the physically-demanding, hydration-demanding day before me. I had my cliche white outfit on, my SPF 134 sunblock, three bottles of water, and my brand-new, light as Renee Zellweger (pre- Bridget Jones) tennis racket. 

I arrived at the court sunny and optimistic. 

Like the Irish weather, that soon changed. 

It takes three to tennis. Two rackets and a ball. I had a racket, Kate had a racket. Between us we had no ball. We had the classic "I thought you were gonna bring it" conversation, where both were talking and nobody was listening. 

After five minutes of freaking out and one minor sun-stroke, we had sobered up and began to think of a solution to this very hot potato, while simultaneously re-applying sunblock. But we could come up with nothing intelligent. Like the tennis balls, our brains were left at home.

We were literally on a crossroad, traffic lights and heavy-traffic included. To the left was the way home and to the right was the way to our work out. We, of course, took the right way. I figured my wallet had rested enough.

There comes a time when, like Victoria Beckham's fashion line, there is no other option but to give up.