Despite living in sunny California, I often felt like an outsider. I opted for my natural brunette locks and avoided trendy sushi happy hours, which led to a sense of isolation that I desperately wanted to escape. The best way to foster a feeling of community, I realized, was to engage in group activities; the question was, which one? In a state dominated by a youthful crowd of wrinkle-free twenty-somethings, I was approaching 40. What sport could I take up without appearing to chase after my lost youth?
My friends, who were couples, often invited me to beach volleyball games. As I arrived—towering at an impressive 6 feet tall—everyone eagerly asked me to join in. I’d smile and reply with “maybe later,” which really meant “never.” My height led people to assume I was destined for tall sports. In high school, I was even scouted by small college coaches for volleyball teams, only for them to quickly reconsider after witnessing my not-so-stellar skills in the gym.
However, my perspective began to change as I watched my friends play volleyball. While I typically lounged on the sand with a good book, I couldn’t help but notice the warmth among the players. They greeted each other like long-lost friends, regardless of the short time since their last match. Their high-fives after scoring and carefree attitudes during missed plays fascinated me. Here was a noncompetitive group simply enjoying themselves, with the stunning Pacific Ocean as their backdrop.
Motivated, I turned to the Internet and found an adult beginner’s beach volleyball class at a nearby location. With determination, I signed up, hoping to finally impress my long-gone P.E. teachers.
On the first day of class, we formed a circle for introductions. To my surprise, I was one of only two women in attendance. The instructor asked us to share our names, where we were from, and how long we had been playing volleyball. I was puzzled by the question; weren’t we all newcomers? It turned out, the guys had been playing for four years, while the other woman sheepishly admitted she had only played four times. Naturally, I claimed her as my partner. If I was going to flounder, I wanted to do it alongside someone with even less experience.
We began with something as simple as tossing the ball, and I struggled to find my rhythm. The hot sand burned my feet, and I realized my sunscreen application was lacking, as my skin began to redden. My arms ached from bumping the ball repeatedly, and I noticed bruises forming. But what struck me most was how often I said “sorry” for every little mistake.
By the second class, I arrived with renewed spirit. I silently told myself, “I am capable,” each time the ball went astray. My body language shifted as I stood tall, chest out and head high. Standing at 6 feet, I decided I would own my height.
The effort paid off; I began hitting the ball with more strength and accuracy. With every minor victory, my confidence blossomed. I stopped apologizing and even caught the instructor’s attention—something he hadn’t managed in our first session.
As I continued to practice, I developed an appreciation for volleyball and my burgeoning skills. No longer did I shy away off the court; I began to notice how others perceived me differently.
At almost 40, I’ve learned that there are no age limits when it comes to picking up new hobbies. Whether you’re looking to learn a sport or explore other avenues—like those discussed in our article on home insemination kits—it’s never too late to embark on a new journey. For those considering pregnancy, this resource offers valuable insights into insemination methods, while this kit can help you on your path.
In summary, don’t let age hold you back from trying something new. Dive in, embrace the challenges, and discover the joy that comes with learning.