It’s going to be touch and go to see if I get to the end of typing out all of these words, friends, because I played a competitive squash game for the first time in seven years last night. The walking up and down stairs is proving the major problem, but my forearms are also up in arms.

It took a lot of persuasion to get me back on court. This featured but was not limited to: a friendly team captain who kept pointing me in the direction of women’s training sessions, a university friend who got me added to the WhatsApp group so the reminders would keep coming and, in the end, the hint of a free meal on the night.

In the hours before the desire to cancel loomed so large. It’s hard to articulate exactly what was going on in my head because a lot of it was just that familiar high-pitched fear

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