What happens when you tell your tennis teacher that your other “coach” is a life coach with a twist.


My very talented tennis teacher has morphed into becoming my sports and nutrition coach.  

She is an experienced teacher, and former pro player.  She is also in possession of an undergrad degree in biochemistry and a masters in sports nutrition.  She really knows her stuff.

I am beginning to wonder if she might also be kinky.

She is also quite flirtatious, which always makes a lesson fun.  She loves to talk about poop transfusions, which are miracle cures for some diseases and helpful with eczema and other ailments.  “Transpoopsion” is what she calls them when you shoot it up the bum…and “crapsule” is what you do when you swallow it.  Those doctors!

We have talked a lot about how the gut affects mood. We both wonder if your gut biome changed, how different you would feel in your body. Would you feel the difference? After all, the gut is called the second brain. There are more nerve endings in the gut, and more connections with the brain than for any other part of the body. And none of them are conscious pathways. It strikes me that this neural axis lies at the core of who we are and how we feel. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone else’s gut biome inside me, and how that might affect me, the way I think, the way I feel.*

It is not hard to imagine just whose biome I am thinking of either…to think that even my insides were literally aligned with Hers. Hmmm.

A tennis lesson has become as much a conversation about diet and gut health as it has a workout on the courts.  She has an encyclopaedic knowledge of supplements and is quite prescriptive about what I should and should not take.

I’ve been talking with her about the shared interest that “my other coach” has in the gut, simply referring to Mistress as my personal coach.  The other day we started to talk about emotions in the context of coaching, and she began to understand just exactly what kind of “coach” Mistress is.

“Is that the German woman?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, I see.  I can tell anything about a person from the way they play tennis.  It’s very revealing.”

“Okay,” I said, opening my arms.

“You’re too nice.  You should be killing it out here, but instead you hit the ball right back to me, like you’re a puppy playing fetch.”

“I can’t help it,” I said.

“Yes you can, and you will.  When I get a shot I can put away, I just want to kill it 500 times,” she said swatting her racquet in the air.  We’re going to play a game now.  For every shot you make easy for me, you’re going to get a punishment,” and then she laughed.  “What should it be?  Push-ups?  Sit-ups?  No, I’m going to make you run.  Every time you make it too easy for me, you’re going to run around the court.”

“Yes, okay,” I agreed.

She was very encouraging until I made a mistake.  “Sorry,” I said.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, “for that you’re doing it twice.”

“ADD people have this thing about saying sorry.”

“Don’t make excuses or you’ll run three times.”

“Okay,” so I ran twice.  She watched with a smile as I did.

“That’s how some people learn.  You have to find what makes each person tick.”

“My friend would be very grateful if you got me to stop saying sorry.”

“Oh, I will.”

I was very tired by the time I got home.

NB. *There are health and safety issues that would arise from such practice which should be investigated and understood before being contemplated.

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