Love-15 It all starts in the summer, the red on the bottom of my shoes from the tennis court, the

sun
beating down on my already slightly sunburnt face, and overheating my phone. It was the summer after
quarantine, and I finally had a way to get out of the house. A friend had sent me the summer practice
schedule when I mentioned that I wanted to do a sport for my sophomore year of highschool. Little did I
know that this sport would become an unhealthy obsession and an escape from life’s struggles- an
infatuation lasting for over a year. Being the year after quarantine, sophomore year was essentially my
freshman year. Having to struggle balancing school and being a beginner in the sport of tennis was
definitely tough, and ultimately made me sacrifice sleep and perhaps some of my sanity as well. The first
day of sophomore year was filled with excitement- not to meet new people and see my teachers,-but
for my first ever tennis game. I played doubles with another confident beginner against two freshmen
younger than I, and lost terribly as I figured out that I couldn’t swing the racket fast enough because of
how heavy it was. I went home satisfied that I played tennis, not an ounce of disappointment dripping
from my face even though I lost. I then worked on swinging my racket multiple times in the mirror to get
the hang of it. Swinging this racket multiple times in the mirror made me absolutely fascinated by how
much energy could be accumulated through just a couple of movements. I take a step back with my
right foot, bringing my elbow back simultaneously, then swing the racket around to the front of my body
all while keeping my left foot planted in one spot. This torque created along with the strength from my
knees being bent, allowed me to swing the racket with force from my whole body rather than just the
force from my arm. Those 30 minutes of in class practice coupled with after school practice was never
enough for me. Coming home and being able to go through the motion of swinging my racket multiple
times was what made the significant difference. When I would get the chance, after school practice was
the second best thing to swinging my racket at home. I would play continuously for hours with whoever
agreed to play against me. I went to practices every day staying until 4:30, which the coaches almost
hated me for. I never cared that I lost against my opponent, I just loved moving my body in such ways
that would let me improve my game. While others stopped playing because they were tired, I didn’t
stop until I was pretty much exhausted-which was probably pretty bad for me but I didn’t care. In the fall
season of tennis, I had gone on to lose every one of my matches. Even though I should have been
disappointed because of this, I was quite optimistic for

the future. I guess one could almost say that I loved losing. As I learned that every step counted, every
movement having some type of purpose, I also learned around this time about the different majors in
college. Kinesiology, or the scientific study of human body movement, seemed to almost perfectly align
with my interests from tennis. It was almost too perfect, too good to be true, that this dedication I was
putting into a hobby could become a potential part of my future. “Swing through the ball” my tennis
coach would say, steering my life’s decisions to get through my obstacles and never stop working
towards my passion.