I’m on the move constantly. I exercise about six days a week, walk everywhere (thank you, New York City), and dance the night away until, well, let’s just say the early hours of the morning. But there’s not a lot of time for play. That feeling of running around the playground, tripping and falling on wood chips, or slipping on wet grass just doesn’t exist in my current life. (And, yes, I did get injured a lot as a child.) But, recently, I rediscovered the feeling of carefree movement in a surprising place: the pickleball court.
Like many Americans, I quickly got into the pickleball craze after being taught by a family member last summer. Fortunately, my roommates were on board with my new obsession. We purchased a moveable net from Amazon that we could set up on a nearby lined court. Within just a few minutes of hitting around, we were all hooked. A free thing to do in New York City that wasn’t our typical park hang? Yes, please. But I also became entranced with the game for an unexpected reason: it made me feel like a kid again.
My movement throughout the rest of the week is structured. As much as I would…
