Having taken up the sport of pickleball fairly recently I now find myself deeply engaged, contemplating daily the intricacies of the game: the interplay between its physical demands and cerebral requirements. I’m increasingly seeing the game as metaphor, mirroring the travails highs and lows of daily existence. The elation of a well-played point paralleling an enjoyable evening with friends or the sinking feeling of being beaten down the line the equivalent of an upcoming dental appointment.

In the interests of coming away from an outing on a high rather than a low I find myself thinking about, preparing, anticipating what to expect in order to execute proper fundamentals, increasing my chances of success. Even so, mental preparation doesn’t always produce desired results. Sometimes I lose focus, or my timing is off, or the matchups are unfavorable, and I leave the courts in low spirits.

I wonder if the real issue here is that I don’t have anything truly important to think about.