New Court, New Game, Same Me
If you know me, you know life in the Ingles household doesn’t exactly have a pause button. Between managing three energetic kids, supporting Joe’s career, and juggling my own responsibilities, there’s rarely a moment to catch my breath. But recently, I found something that’s become just mine—something that’s helped me rediscover parts of myself I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing.
It happened on an ordinary Sunday afternoon while watching Milla and her friends during their tennis lesson. My eyes wandered to the far courts where four women were playing doubles. They were laughing between points and looking like they were having the absolute time of their lives. I had no idea who was winning, and honestly? It didn’t seem to matter. Something clicked in me. Before I could talk myself out of it, I decided to ask Milla’s coach if he also taught adults.
It could be fun, I thought? A little challenge, maybe have some fun, and if nothing else, it would at least be a chance to learn something new and move my body in the sunshine, in a way that wasn't just another workout.
“Why not?”
The first time I stepped onto that tennis court, I was nervous. No longer was I “Renae Ingles, former netball pro.” I was just Renae. A complete novice, with absolutely zero expectations of me. Nobody needed me to be perfect. Heck, I didn’t even need to be good. All I had to do was show up; tennis racket awkwardly in hand, ready to try.
I felt free.
On the tennis court, I don't carry the weight of expectations or past accomplishments. I'm not constantly analyzing my performance against years of professional muscle memory or comparing myself to the athlete I used to be. It's just me, present in the moment, focusing on the simple joy and soothing rhythm of hitting a ball over a net.
And that’s probably for the best, because right now? I am most definitely not a pro. One minute I'm surprising myself with a perfect volley, the next I'm swinging at nothing but air while the ball bounces happily past me. My coach has become quite accustomed to my enthusiastic, if not, ahem, erratic approach. Thanks, coach!.
I still laugh thinking about my first attempt at serving. I went straight for power (because, well I am Renae Ingles, and who needs technique, right?), and completely overshot it. I watched in horror as the ball sailed majestically into the neighboring court. The look on my coach's face was well worth the embarrassment and provided the laugh we both needed. Then there was my now infamous first singles match, where I suffered a very humbling defeat that had me questioning all my choices.
And yet… I was hooked.
Like the day I hit a perfect forehand down the line—clean and powerful, landing precisely where I wanted it. In that split second, I felt a familiar spark ignite. That competitive fire I'd known so well on the netball court was suddenly alive again, this time on a new court.
Tennis forces me to be present. The moment I step on the court, I’m not thinking about my to-do list, school pickups, or what’s for dinner. It has become an automatic reset button for my mind. You all know me by now: I love to get things right immediately, but tennis (and life) doesn't work that way. Some of the best advice I’ve ever received was:
“Focus on the next point.”
And now, that simple phrase has become my unexpected life - and tennis - mantra these days. Tennis reminds me to shake off my mistakes and just focus on the next step. Is someone better or faster than you? So what? You made an error? Who cares?
“The only thing that matters is how you are going to correct it now that you know better.”
And yet..… I was hooked.
I thought I was picking up a simple hobby. Turns out, I was opening the door to transforming my mental clarity and unexpected life lessons too:
Perfection is not your friend. A lesson that has taken some getting used to. I love getting things right immediately—but tennis? It doesn’t care. It humbles you real quick. One minute, I’m hitting a clean forehand, the next, I’m swinging at absolutely nothing. Tennis is high-error, high-adjustment. But that’s the game. And honestly? That’s life.
Shake it off. I used to dwell on bad shots, replaying them in my head instead of focusing on what’s next. But in tennis, every point is a fresh start. You hold on too long to the last mistake? You’re already losing the next one.
Show up for yourself. I used to measure my worth by what I achieved—titles, results, achievements. But stepping onto the tennis court, I realized I was doing this purely for me. No scoreboard. No pressure. Just showing up, learning, and loving the process. And that’s been powerful.
But maybe the biggest surprise of all? The community. On these courts, I've found a community of diverse women—mothers seeking brief escapes, professionals decompressing, and retirees embracing new challenges—who celebrate each other's improvements while pushing one another forward, regardless of skill level.
My entire life, I measured my worth through achievements, but tennis is teaching me that success isn't about winning every point but about showing up consistently and finding pleasure in incremental progress. The wisdom to "focus on the next point" has become a new fav life philosophy, encouraging present-moment awareness in both sports and life.
So when you see me on the court, racket in hand, happily (and badly) singing along to Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” with my brow covered in sweat and determination in my eyes, know that I'm engaged in an act of self-care and self-discovery I once thought wasn’t possible for myself.
And I’m having a ton of fun while doing it.
In a world that demands instant gratification, there's something freeing about finding contentment in the learning process—and perhaps that's the most valuable lesson tennis has taught me: that showing up for yourself can be the most important commitment you make. We all need a space where we’re more than just our roles or the titles we hold. It’s important to have a place where you can show up, be a beginner, and just have fun. If you haven’t found yours yet—go looking. It might just change everything.
Maybe it’s not tennis for you. Maybe it’s painting, running, or finally taking that class you’ve been thinking about. Whatever it is—find the thing that’s just for you. No expectations, no pressure.
Just play.
It would be remiss of me not to give a shoutout to Shane, Brandon, and Eric from the Winter Park Racquet Club. Thanks for helping me fall in love with a new sport while also challenging me to be better each session, and to control the aggression (ha!).
…And to my new teammates—you rock! Thanks for the warm welcome, the laughs, and the newfound drive to win.
Yours truly,
Nae x