F&CK PICKLEBALL

 

My Brief and Painful Affair with Pickleball

So, picture this: it’s 2021, and my best friends have been sucked into the vortex of Pickleball. Meanwhile, I’m knee-deep in Ironman training, and my response to their newfound obsession? Hell no, hell f*cking no! I was not about to sacrifice my hard-earned progress for a game that sounded like a mix between tennis and a snack.Sure, I had a serious case of FOMO, missing out on all the growing pains, the hilarious learning curves, and the epic stories that came with it. But hey, I was racing well and perfectly content to stay in my lane—the forward momentum lane, not the lateral lane. I kept telling myself, “One day, one day…”As my friends continued to play, I realized I’d eventually have to learn the ropes if I wanted to join them. That thought alone was enough to keep me at bay. Then, my son jumped on the Pickleball bandwagon this summer, fully embracing the cult-like enthusiasm that seems to come with it. He’s now an evangelistic pickle baller, spreading the gospel of dinking and smashing like a true believer.So, I devised a plan: post-Ironman Nice, I’d give it a shot.

The Initiation

Gina, bless her heart, took me out for an hour-long crash course in the basics. My knee, which had been a bit jacked up leading to Nice, surprisingly held up during the race. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t the knee that caused my very sad and slow run in Nice. After our session, my knee was cranky but manageable. I even managed to run the next day without too much drama.Then came Sunday, when Ken and Les took John and me out for a proper lesson. We LOVED it and I did not suck as badly as I thought.  Mid-game, I started feeling some “niggles” (a fancy term for “uh-oh”), and post-play, my knee began to swell.F&CK! I laid off running and biking, but the swelling only got worse. My Baker’s cyst decided to throw a party, pressing on tendons and waking me up at night like an unwanted houseguest. I was back to swimming only, taking days off, and seeing no improvement. A few painful, easy bike rides later, and I was still in the same boat.

The Triage

I tried everything: ice, heat, compression, Hypervolt, Shockwave—you name it. Nothing worked. I even found a particularly painful spot with the Hypervolt that seemed like a good thing to hammer on—ouch! Then, while coaching masters, someone casually asked if my calf was okay. I looked down and nearly fainted—my calf was 50% larger than the other one and felt like it was on fire.I called the doctor, worried about a blood clot. An ultrasound cleared me of that but revealed a lot of fluid around my knee and that my cyst had burst, draining into my calf.With a very big and thick needle, the doctor drained 10ml of fluid; let me tell you, it was instant relief! I was finally out of debilitating pain and hopeful about returning to biking and running.

The Retirement

So, here I am, officially “retired” from Pickleball. Don’t you just love it when amateurs announce their retirement? It drives me nuts when I see dramatic posts about it—nobody cares about my short-lived Pickleball career!As a coach, I’ve always been wary of Pickleball. If you don’t regularly move laterally or have any injuries, DON’T DO IT! And if you think Pickleball isn’t affecting your injury, you’re delusional.I’m genuinely sorry to miss out on the hype, the fun, and the future of this couple’s sport and playing with my son. But my heart belongs to biking and running!So for now, goodbye, Pickleball. I’ll be over here, happily pedaling and running my way through life!