Tennis, anyone?

I am nearing the end of Week 2 in the Summer of Steph.
Funny how time flies. It makes me think I am not doing enough to celebrate this freedom. Yet, isn't not doing much just as much of a celebration?

I created a list of goals for the summer. Goal #2 involves 'Getting Fit'.
Most days I take a pretty good stab at achieving this goal.
I swim at the Aquacenter nearby - and walk to and from.
I am also doing the daily regimen of a certain Jorge (whore-hay) Cruise.
Just 8 minutes a day to the new me. More like 15 when you incorporate time to march on the spot (warm up) and stretches afterwards. The marching on the spot seems to freak the cats out - they panic and scatter. I guess I am quite a sight - marching in my underwear in the living room.

Today instead of swimming, I played tennis.
I hit the ball around, practised my serves, but mostly played against the wall.
Seems those lessons I took 20 years ago are long forgotten.
Oh well.
And strangely enough, after about 30 minutes of banging the ball around, my hand started to hurt. I have developed what I call "tennis claw". Maybe I am hanging on to the racket too hard?

I took the stairs today - 14 flights down.
But down is the easy part.
I tried to take them back up too.
Hmmph.
I made it to 5, where, huffing and puffing and a sad, sorry mess - I took the elevator the rest of the way. Maybe I will try to see if I can do 6 floors tomorrow?