How can it be that running across a tennis court can break someone? Because that is what’s happened to me. All geared-up, Santa-hatted, Christmas-music’d and ready for the festive tennis doubles I was mid set and running behind my partner to pick up a baseline shot when it felt as though someone had reached into my calf, squeezed hard and wrenched out the muscle.

It took me a while to clock something had gone horribly wrong. I stopped dead, and felt really strange. Like the inside of my leg had turned to jelly. And when I tried to walk, well, I couldn’t.

As it slowly dawned on the festive group that something had gone wrong, play ground to a halt. Our coach Nick came over to help me over to the bench and reunite me with my Christmas jumper. “It’s just a flesh wound.” I said. Or words to that affect. Never one to admit weakness. A clump of reception staff appeared looking concerned, one clutching the David Lloyd First Aid bag. I was ready to be bagged up and stretchered off.

They were all very lovely. Helping me hobble off the court and carrying my racquet, water bottle, bag etc. for me as I still wibbled away that I was fine.

I wasn’t fine.

I filled in the incident report form and limped slowly the carpark. Thank goodness I could still manage to drive the Mazda home.

And that was that. No more tennis. No dog walks. No gym. I know I complain a lot, but being active is a big deal for me and sitting still not my forte.

I am a very impatient patient.

It’s a week later and I’m still not right but getting there slowly. I’ve surrendered to the sedentary. We’re skiing in the new year and I want to be as close to 100% as possible for that.

I’m trying to persuade myself it’s not an age thing. But it’s an age thing.

Next time I’ll remember to stretch before I go anywhere near a tennis court.