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The long-suffering f-list is probably aware that I love tennis, both playing it and watching it.
The "why" is a little difficult to pinpoint -- there are lots of reasons why I love playing: for one, the pleasure of moving (mostly) outdoors; then there's the satisfaction of having learned something so entirely new at a not exactly tender age.
There are, however, moments which I enjoy particularly; moments when I suddenly understand something the coach has been telling me for a while, but which hasn't been making a lot of sense.
Gorjan has been telling me since we started playing that I should keep my eyes on the ball.
OK, that's pretty obvious, isn't it? I mean unless you look at the ball, you're not terribly likely to catch it.
On Saturday, though, something suddenly went *click* in my brain, and I understood: it's not about looking at the ball. It's about focusing on it, without thinking, and without thinking of anything else like your legs or your racquet or anything. If you're positioned correctly, i.e. with your left (for forehand) or right (for backhand) shoulder facing towards the net, and if you keep that kind of intense focus on the ball, you'll always hit it exactly in time, because you can't really follow it beyond a certain point without turning your head, which you don't want to do, because you'd lose your balance.
It works a treat, and my timing has become so much better.
Gorjan was happy, too.
In other news,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mundungus42's birthday ficlet hasn't been making much progress over the weekend, because I was in an editing rather than a writing mood and therefore did another round of editing on my exchange fic.
I did get Irene hooked on Sherlock, though, and thus had the perfect excuse for watching the series a third time. I'm utterly in love with all of it, but Scandal in Belgravia is my favourite. I think I could watch the scene at Buckingham Palace a hundred times without growing tired of it, and I'm sure I'll never stop giggling about this:
Mycroft, picking up the teapot to serve the four of them, "I'll be mother."
Sherlock, "And there's a whole childhood in a nutshell."
I guess I'll have to read the original story. Maybe all of them, but "Scandal" interests me most, in that I'd like to see how ACD imagined/depicted the relationship between Sherlock and Irene Adler.
Not feeling particularly Monday-ish today (which is good), probably because the Ambassador isn't here, which always makes for a more relaxed beginning of the week.
The "why" is a little difficult to pinpoint -- there are lots of reasons why I love playing: for one, the pleasure of moving (mostly) outdoors; then there's the satisfaction of having learned something so entirely new at a not exactly tender age.
There are, however, moments which I enjoy particularly; moments when I suddenly understand something the coach has been telling me for a while, but which hasn't been making a lot of sense.
Gorjan has been telling me since we started playing that I should keep my eyes on the ball.
OK, that's pretty obvious, isn't it? I mean unless you look at the ball, you're not terribly likely to catch it.
On Saturday, though, something suddenly went *click* in my brain, and I understood: it's not about looking at the ball. It's about focusing on it, without thinking, and without thinking of anything else like your legs or your racquet or anything. If you're positioned correctly, i.e. with your left (for forehand) or right (for backhand) shoulder facing towards the net, and if you keep that kind of intense focus on the ball, you'll always hit it exactly in time, because you can't really follow it beyond a certain point without turning your head, which you don't want to do, because you'd lose your balance.
It works a treat, and my timing has become so much better.
Gorjan was happy, too.
In other news,
mundungus42's birthday ficlet hasn't been making much progress over the weekend, because I was in an editing rather than a writing mood and therefore did another round of editing on my exchange fic.I did get Irene hooked on Sherlock, though, and thus had the perfect excuse for watching the series a third time. I'm utterly in love with all of it, but Scandal in Belgravia is my favourite. I think I could watch the scene at Buckingham Palace a hundred times without growing tired of it, and I'm sure I'll never stop giggling about this:
Mycroft, picking up the teapot to serve the four of them, "I'll be mother."
Sherlock, "And there's a whole childhood in a nutshell."
I guess I'll have to read the original story. Maybe all of them, but "Scandal" interests me most, in that I'd like to see how ACD imagined/depicted the relationship between Sherlock and Irene Adler.
Not feeling particularly Monday-ish today (which is good), probably because the Ambassador isn't here, which always makes for a more relaxed beginning of the week.
