What I Learned Starting Tennis in My 30s
Watching Alex Eala make history at Wimbledon made me reflect on my own late-in-life tennis journey and everything the sport has taught me about joy, patience, and starting over.
This week marks the start of one of my favorite events of the year: Wimbledon. Aside from being the inspiration for one of my favorite rom-coms, it’s arguably the most prestigious and anticipated tennis tournament, famous for its storied grass courts, all-white dress code, strawberries and cream, and fashionable (even royal!) attendees. This year’s tournament feels especially meaningful because Alexandra Eala, a tennis player representing the Philippines, made her debut in the women’s singles main draw. As a Filipina who only recently started her own tennis journey, I wanted to share why this moment matters—and what the sport has unexpectedly taught me along the way.
Eala, 20, got out in the first round after facing 2024 champion Barbora Krejčíková, but her presence at Wimbledon is no less monumental. This is only her second-ever Grand Slam tournament, and she made history as the first Filipino to be included in the Wimbledon main draw. Eala’s rapid rise up the Women’s Tennis Association rankings (she’s currently No. 56 globally) has made her a household name in the Philippines. Earlier this year, she achieved a major feat by reaching the semi-final for the Miami Open and beating top-ranked, grand slam champions like Iga Świątek and Madison Keys. Just last week, she made the final of Eastbourne, a Wimbledon warm-up tournament.
It’s incredibly rare to see a Filipina athlete wearing our culture proudly on a global stage like this. Nike even made her a special hair tie featuring the sampaguita, the national flower of the Philippines. “A reminder of where I come from – and everything that brought me here,” Eala wrote on Instagram. The box had a Filipino saying, kung may tinanim, may aanihin (roughly translated to “you reap what you sow”).
Watching Eala’s debut brought back the same feeling I had when I watched Leylah Fernandez, a Canadian player with Filipino and Ecuadorian roots, at the U.S. Open last year. She was on a doubles team, and I managed to snag a courtside seat at Arthur Ashe. I felt deeply moved by the sight of her on the court: A morena Filipina, like me, playing a sport I love in the biggest stadium. I didn’t realize how much witnessing that would impact me until that moment. In a sport like tennis, which has long lacked diversity and is often associated with elite, wealthy country club types, seeing players like Eala and Fernandez feels like a hug: You belong too.
Sometimes, I wonder if I had seen a Filipina tennis player (or any athlete!) when I was a young girl, if it would have been easier for me to imagine myself in sports. I loved Michelle Kwan and Kristi Yamaguchi because they were among the few female Asian athletes on TV, but figure skating wasn’t a financial possibility for me. I was also never athletically inclined growing up. I didn’t join summer camps or participate in team sports. I was the last kid to be picked for the dodgeball team during gym class. I participated in track and field throughout high school, but I admittedly joined to look good on my college applications. Sports intimidated me, and since it was something my perfectionist self couldn’t immediately excel in, I mistakenly dismissed it as a waste of time.
I don’t have time for hobbies. This was my internal refrain until I hit my 30s and realized I hadn’t done anything Just For Fun since I was a teenager. Governed by career goals, I dedicated every spare moment to being “productive.” If I ever took an interest in a hobby, I immediately started fantasizing about how to monetize it. I got sucked deep into the vortex of hustle culture, and burnout wasn’t just a symptom, it was my everyday reality.
In a sport like tennis, which has long lacked diversity and is often associated with elite, wealthy country club types, seeing players like Eala and Fernandez feels like a hug: You belong too.
At the end of 2023, I’d made the most money I ever made…and was the most depressed I’d ever felt. One of the most challenging things to do when you’re self-employed is learning how to say no. That year, “no” wasn’t in my vocabulary. I said yes to everything: Every speaking opportunity, every influencer partnership, every event, every consulting gig. I felt like a wet rag that’d been wrung out–crumpled and squeezed out of all emotional and creative energy. I could barely muster enough motivation to get out of bed, let alone move my body.
In full SOS mode, I decided to take a six-week break while visiting my husband’s family in Sydney: No work, no emails, no social media. I deleted every app off my phone and spent hours reading, journaling, walking, and doing early morning beach swims. I also watched every single match of the Australian Open—and somewhere between the rallies and replays, I felt inspired enough to book a nearby tennis court, just five minutes from my in-laws’ home. There, with zero experience and the cheapest racket I could find at K-Mart, I hit my first tennis ball. I was terrible at it… and it didn’t matter! That was a totally new concept for me. The idea of learning something new from scratch, just for me, was thrilling.
When I arrived back in New York, I signed up for an adult beginner tennis class at my local Queens courts. I remember feeling my gut in my throat when I stepped on the court for the first time. I hadn’t felt that nervous in ages. My coach, Noel, was a no-nonsense middle-aged Caribbean man who wasted no time. “Show me what you got,” he greeted me, as he started hitting balls with no instructions. I quickly realized there wouldn’t be a step-by-step introduction or “how to hold a racket” demo. He fed the balls. I hit them back. He corrected my mistakes. He fired feedback quickly: “Follow through with the swing!” “Left foot forward!” “Getotheballgettotheball!” Even though it was humbling to be a beginner, my lessons lit me up. I showed up every week for five months, determined to improve. I signed up for additional group classes throughout the summer and then private lessons in the fall. I was officially addicted.
If you’ve been entertaining the idea of starting a new hobby or learning a new sport as an adult, don’t wait. Falling in love with tennis as an adult has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. After never caring about the Super Bowl, the NBA Finals, or any other major sporting event, I now get jump-out-of-my-seat excited while watching a tennis match. Most significantly, I’ve learned more about myself and lessons I could apply to life off the court, too. Here are four takeaways tennis has taught me so far:
How to be patient with yourself
A lot of tennis is timing. One of the first things my first coach drilled into me was to wait for the ball to bounce before hitting it. Obviously, this doesn’t always apply–volleys, for example, are quick hits you make before the ball touches the ground–but the idea still stands: You have more time than you think. Being a beginner at anything can be frustrating. As someone who is very self-critical, tennis has helped me rewire my brain to cultivate greater patience with myself. It took me 10 months to finally learn how to do a full serve…and I still miss the service box 90% of the time! How you speak to yourself in moments that test you matters. Tennis really helped me get better at practicing more positive self-talk.
How to be present
You don’t need me to tell you how chronically online we all are. I reach for my phone in every idle moment, scrolling social media until I’m numb. As a full-time content creator, it’s even harder to escape the constant ping of notifications, comments, and DMs. But, for the hour I’m in class or hitting with friends, I’m blissfully offline. When there’s a tennis ball flying at you, there’s no room to overthink—it forces you to focus on exactly what’s in front of you.
Back when I was an editor at Women’s Health, I wrote an article about adult hobbies and the psychological benefits of being in a “flow state”—that feeling of being so immersed in an activity that time seems to disappear. It’s not just good for brain plasticity, I learned; it also helps “form a multilayered sense of identity,” as one psychologist told me.
How to do things just for fun
In the age of hustle culture, it often feels like everything you do must be for self-improvement, career advancement, or monetization. Tennis brought back an element of “play” back into my life and showed me how important it is just to enjoy yourself without the pressure of excelling. Welcoming this mindset has helped me open up to other hobbies as well: I’ve been relearning piano, starting watercolor painting, and even dabbling in pottery. Having artistic hobbies helped me separate creative fulfillment from my work, which in turn improved my overall focus.
How to get yourself outside of your comfort zone.
It’s very easy, especially in your 30s, to stick to your bubble. You hang out with the same people, you frequent the same places, and you don’t really make the effort to make new friends. It can be intimidating to be in a new environment when you don’t know anyone, but I’ve enjoyed how tennis has made me open myself up to meeting new people. Whether it’s fellow players and coaches in my classes, connecting with tennis content creators, attending tennis events, or more unexpected connections–like when I met the founders of Richsport, a woman-owned brand bringing bright colors and personal style to racket accessories–tennis opened a whole new world.
Tennis wasn’t just a new hobby for me; it was a way back to myself. It was an active practice in reminding myself that I am capable. Now, watching players like Alex Eala and Leylah Fernandez reimagining what’s possible for Filipinas—on and off the court—makes that journey feel even more affirming.
I hope this inspires you to pick up a racket…or any new hobby that lights you up!
Loved reading this!!! Relate so much! Also, I love reading the substack Finite Jest by Andrea Petkovic, former WTA player for commentary on the tennis world. She writes with so much wit and sarcasm, i cant help but enjoy tennis more reading the behind the scenes. :-)