Letters from the Retirement Community (4): Pivoting and Pickleball

On injury, aging, and the importance of having a plan when it’s time to pivot — on and off the court

Retirement is not a fixed house, but a series of movable shelters.

Arun Kumar

Summary: Pickleball offers aging players more than a pastime — it’s a metaphor for life’s accelerating transitions and the need to pivot with purpose. As bodies slow and risks rise, the game teaches the value of having a ready portfolio of physical and mental engagements, prepared for the moment when an injury happens play is no longer possible.

The game of pickleball is entertaining as hell. There’s simply no other way to describe the addictive pull it exerts once you’ve paddled your first drop shot or rallied through a tight close at the net exchange. What makes it especially compelling, particularly for those in the later chapters of life, is that it is not a young person’s sprint but a tactician’s chess match. Unlike tennis, which demands longer court coverage and explosive movement, pickleball is physically more forgiving, more adaptable: a game that allows pace to slow, breath to return, and strategy to outshine raw stamina.

In this way, pickleball is a kind of gift to the aging body. The smaller court compresses space, meaning one doesn’t need to sprint end to end to stay in the rally. Strategies like “dinking” — a slow, arcing volley barely clearing the net — transform the game into a meditation on patience. And then there’s the third shot drop: a deliberate soft return that resets a rally, taming the tempo of what could otherwise be a frenetic exchange. In mastering pickleball, one isn’t just learning a game; one is learning the subtle art of control in a world that increasingly spins faster.

But there is a shadow that follows the fun. A quiet but ever-present reality: the older bodies populating retirement community courts are not as resilient as they once were. With every game, the thrill of play walks together with the risk of injury. Every month, we hear whispers — another fall, another wrist fracture from a bracing reflex, another ankle twisted on a misstep. The most dangerous move of all? Running backwards to return a lob. A fall onto one’s back, a fractured hip, and suddenly the paddle is shelved indefinitely, if not forever.

When I mentioned to my primary physician that I had taken up pickleball, she didn’t share my silent enthusiasm. Her face shifted, not with disapproval, but concern: be careful, she said. She has seen too often — the consequences of exuberance meeting the hard surface of reality of aging bodies.

After nine months of playing, I now understand what she meant. I’ve seen enough injuries to no longer see them as exceptions. They are part of the game. And the consequences stretch beyond just physical. An injury is not just a pause in play — it is a rupture in rhythm. Days once filled with court time, laughter, and friendly competition, suddenly has empty blocks of time that must now be reimagined. The absence of movement, the abrupt loss of social contact, the missing sense of forward momentum, all must be accounted for.

So, what does one do? One must pivot.

Retirement, I am beginning to realize, is not a single stage but a sequence of them. In our youth, we could chart decades with minimal change in our capacities. But in old age, change comes at a quicker pace, sometimes with the force of a fall. Aches appear where there were none. Endurance wanes at a faster speed. And what was easily done yesterday may suddenly become unreachable today. This is the quiet hum beneath the surface of aging: the requirement not just to adapt, but to anticipate, plan, and be ready.

A good retirement plan is not a static but a dynamic portfolio of engagements — physical, mental, and social — that can absorb the shock of sudden change. If pickleball becomes unplayable, what then? Perhaps a treadmill, a stationary bike, or an elliptical at low resistance. If walking becomes difficult, then swimming or seated strength training. If even that becomes too much, then shift again — toward intellectual pursuits, toward reading groups, writing circles, strategic games.

All of this requires something that, ironically, declines more slowly than the body: the mind. The ability to pivot is first and foremost a cognitive task. To reflect, assess, make choices, and adjust is mental work. The ultimate pivot, then, is not from sport to sport but from the physical to the cognitive realm. And for this, we must protect and nurture our minds as fiercely as we once protected our ankles.

For if the mind goes, there is no pivot to make. Cognitive decline closes the doors of planning. One does not adapt if one cannot grasp that change is needed. And so, of the two capacities we carry with us — physical and cognitive — it is cognition that must be guarded with more reverence. It is the last light we have to steer by.

Retirement, then, is not a static exercise. It is changing landscape. Imagine retirement not as a fixed house, but as a series of movable shelters like tents you can pitch in different terrains. From tennis to pickleball. From pickleball to bocce. From bocce to board games, books, and beyond. The trick is not to mourn each shelter as you move from it, but to be ready for the next one. And to have enjoyed the stay while you were there.

So, with these thoughts in mind, I step onto the court again. The morning air still feels crisp, the plastic ball still makes its satisfying “clack” off the paddle, and the laughter and curses echo across the net. I remind myself, as I stretch and warm up, that I do not need to chase every shot. I do not need to prove anything. I absolutely must not run backwards. Not because I am afraid, but because I am invested in continuity, in resilience, in the long game.

Pickleball, in this sense, becomes more than a sport. It becomes a metaphor. A place to learn strategy, restraint, and the wisdom of pace. It teaches that speed is not always the virtue. That winning often comes not from overpowering an opponent, but from waiting for them to falter. From outlasting. From watching and waiting.

And so, just as in the court, in retirement we need to build our strategy around the idea of sustainability. We need to carry a “Portfolio of Engagements” — a collection of pursuits ready to be drawn upon as conditions change. Fingers crossed, I hope I can continue enjoying this game for years to come. But I am not naïve. Life has a way of delivering unexpected shots. And when that happens, I want to be able to return the serve, even if on a court.

Until then, paddle in hand, heart hopeful, and with a watchful eye on the rhythm of the game, I play on.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.