Monday, March 28, 2005

1 Golf Club + 75 Balls =


I didn't realize that so many different, & previously unknown, muscles were used to hit a golf ball. Or, at least, to swing at one (I won't claim to have actually hit every one every time).

The Boy & I decided on Saturday to take advantage of the beautiful day out & go to the driving range instead of the batting cages as we had first planned. Other than the occasional mini golf game, I have not touched a golf club in about fifteen years. I was so bad at it that I never cared to try the game again. But, we've had a golf course just down the road for a few years now, so, I figured I'd give the driving range a shot again.

Walking up to the pro shop, I got a very "Caddyshack" type feeling when I spotted the sign next to the door that said, in big, red letters, something about "no admittance without a collared shirt." Since The Boy was in a sleeveless shirt & I was in a t-shirt covered in hair (we'd just gotten our hair cut), I was feeling woefully underdressed & just a bit uncomfortable. The Boy drug me into the pro shop anyway & the first thing one of the clerks behind the counter said was "You must be here for the driving range."

Yeah, that did wonders for my self image.

Things got better, though, when The Boy talked the clerk into giving us two medium baskets of balls for the price of one large bucket (a savings of seven dollars - cha-ching!). I swear, that kid could sell an icebox to an Eskimo. Anyway, our buckets & borrowed clubs in hand, we made our way to the range. The first half dozen swings were met with much laughing & little actual connecting with the ball. A few more wiffed swings & we finally started getting the hang of it, with only the occasional ball flying straight up into the air. Two hours later, we finished the buckets & returned our borrowed clubs to the pro shop (where I was greeted by some guy who looked like he was going to take me down & throw me out of the course for my inappropriate attire).

Later in the evening, I got the first indication that my musculature was less than thrilled with the activities of earlier in the day. T & I went grocery shopping &, as I picked up a freakin' twelve-pack of sodas, my forearms screamed at me. Literally. The next morning, my legs & lower back were revolting against me. This was all agitated by having to sit up in the balcony at church (thank goodness it wasn't one of the usual Baptist Cardio Workout services). The rest of the day was spent getting up & down from my chair veeeery gingerly. And today - I am stiff. Even typing has proven to be a challenge (my apologies for any stray typos that snuck through).

I think I'll just stick to spectator sports & video games from now on.