Drink. Eat. Tennis. Repeat.

As I drove toward Tucson, I started to have doubts about why I was going. I was planning on visiting Joe and Geno, who I met last fall when they spent a weekend as guests on the tennis ranch. I knew I had felt a connection with these guys that weekend, but did I really know them well enough to go to the place where they live, to spend a night with them? Somehow this seemed like more of a risk than couch surfing. To put my anxieties at bay, I found a yoga studio. I did some Internet research and found Tucson Yoga. When I pulled up to the pueblo building near downtown it didn’t look like much. There were bars on the windows and a rough looking man sitting outside talking to himself. There was still some time before the class so I went to get gas and came back. This time the gate was open and there were people with yoga mats on their backs locking their bikes up out front. Much better.

The instructor was a bubbly woman with a small frame and half sleeves of tattoos on each arm. Ashanti is her name. She greeted me and I laid out my mat next to two girls engaged in intense conversation about a boyfriend crisis. I kept to myself and focused on my own scattered energy. She started the class with the story of a boy and his brother who were to race around the world. As the legend goes, the boys’ parents posed this challenge, offering a hefty prize to the winner of the race. When the race began, the young man's brother took off in a sprint. But the young man walked in a circle around his family claiming they were his ‘world’. He won the prize. Ashanti encouraged us to identify our own virtues that we would name our ‘world’-what our lives revolve around. Human connection is my world. My life is nothing without it. This class was a physical test. I have never dripped sweat during yoga before. Everyone in the room was struggling and sweating, praying for her to end each pose five seconds sooner than we knew she would. I was in a silent one-sided love/hate relationship with Ashanti. Every time she told us to hold a pose just a little longer I hated her with wrath. Every time she released us or told us to focus on positive energy, I loved her. Near the end of the class we all sat cross-legged and were instructed to let out 3 ‘Ohms’ as we exhaled deeply. She said to put our virtue into these ohms, offering it to everyone in the room. As 26 people breathed their virtues into the atmosphere, the room was flooded with a deep, harmonious ringing chant. Suddenly I was sitting on holy ground. I got chills down my spine and the hair on my arms stood straight up. The energy of the room was magnificent. It was everything I could do to contribute my own virtuous sound instead of simply sitting in wonder at the phenomenon happening around me. It was impossible not to be mindful in that moment.

I thanked Ashanti and left the studio with tired muscles but a refreshed mind.  The clock told me I was running late for dinner with Geno and Nancy. I changed a different article of clothing at each red light I came to. I know what you’re thinking; yes, I am quite talented. I found Geno’s house with ease because he wrote me a novel of directions in a text message. I made a mental note to introduce him to GPS technology. He greeted me warmly and introduced me to his girlfriend Nancy (the nicest woman in the world). The three of us went to dinner at Café Poca Cosa, Geno’s father’s favorite place to eat in Tucson. Geno’s father had good taste. Joe was supposed to meet us, but he sadly informed us that clown school was running late and he’d have to cancel. Joe and Geno are legends back at the ranch. They come play tennis with us for a weekend every October. And by ‘play tennis’ I mean they sit on their balcony arguing about who makes better margaritas and heckling people who are actually trying to improve their tennis game. I think I might have seen Joe pick up his racquet once that weekend to swat a bug away from their precious pitcher of margs. Nancy, Geno and I caught up over cocktails until our table was ready. When we were finally seated, Geno got down to business.

‘Darrah, this blog. I love it. You can never, never, never stop writing. Ever.’ We filled Nancy in on my stories on Tour de Polkahontas so far and she told me her own stories of her journey to the game of tennis and about her sweet daughter. Dinner was gourmet, beautiful, and absolutely delicious (almost as satisfying as those instant mashed potatoes on the rim of the Grand Canyon). We talked about writing, life, and my trip until we were the only table left in the restaurant and the staff started giving us those polite hints that are code for ‘We want to go home. Please leave’. We walked downtown to the Dillinger Days festival celebrating Tucson’s famous outlaw, John Dillinger, where we listened to music and watched intoxicated college kids try to walk in a straight line to no avail. It was a very pleasant evening.

The next morning we watched some of the women’s Australian Open final on TV, then went to watch the University of Arizona women’s tennis team play on campus. Even on my sabbatical I can’t get away from the game of tennis, and for that I am thankful. Joe joined us at the match and afterwards we had lunch with the coach and her family (I swear these guys are best friends with everybody). After a much needed siesta, we went out for dinner and drinks. Nancy, Geno, Joe and I talked about tennis and the men told war stories about long nights they’ve had on the ranch with Sal, a pro who they claim was a bad influence on them in tennis and in life. If you were listening to this conversation from the next table, you might think that they hate Sal and each other. But from where I was sitting I saw how much these guys care about each other and the game of tennis. It was very refreshing to feel love like that in the air. After dinner I said goodbye to Joe and that I might see him in October.

I noticed a routine developing as I stayed with Nancy and Geno. It went like this: Coffee, tennis, food, drinks, tennis, food, drinks, repeat. We watched the men’s Aussie Open final over coffee. The energy of the living room buzzed as we anticipated the outcome of the match between Rafa Nadal and Stanimal Wawrinka. Geno made hilarious comparisons between himself and Nadal as Nancy went into detail how much she loves Rafa. When the match was done Nancy and I said our goodbyes as she rushed off to tennis practice. Geno treated me to one last meal together at an all-vegetarian restaurant; he is a man after my own heart. Over vegan burgers we talked about love. He relayed to me the magic of finding someone who is true to him or herself, as he has found in Nancy. He urged me to have confidence in my own truth, my writing, and myself. There, in a booth at Lovin’ Spoonfuls, I fell in love with Geno’s soul. Nancy is a lucky lady. Geno and I put our sunglasses on to hide a tearful goodbye. He pointed me in the right direction (in more ways than one) and I set off once again into the unknown. As I drove away I laughed at the doubts I'd had two days prior about stopping in Tucson to see Joe and Geno. Tucson was a great stop on Tour de Polkahontas.