My best friend had told me what to expect. She predicted that my husband would come up with his own helpful ideas for burning some calories and that I needed to be prepared.
“Husbands always come up with the same brilliant idea about new ways to exercise,” she said with a slight tone of disgust.
She was right. My husband broached the subject just a few days ago, suggesting that:
1. It’s something we can do together
2. It’s fun
3. We already have the right equipment. No need to run out and buy weights, trampolines or a thigh-master when we’ve got all we need right here, babe.
All of the women out there know exactly what I’m talking about, right ladies?
Yup, he wants me to golf with him.
Golf has become my husband’s passion in life. It’s grabbed him by the throat and dragged him from his home and family, separated him from his lawn mower and hunting dogs, and left me with broken tees rattling around in my washing machine.
For my birthday, I got golf clubs. For Mother’s Day, I got lessons with a pro. My husband apparently believes that I should put aside my hostility toward his addiction and join him.
In my quest for less fat and more muscle, I’ve embraced walking, bike riding, and light hiking. I’ve been invited to try Zumba, some of the local fitness centers, and yoga. All of these activities make sense to me. Golf doesn’t make sense.
I don’t find anything physically natural about a golf swing. Let’s see: wrap your hands thisaway with your thumb here and your palm there, twist your body like a spring (a spring!), don’t bend your elbow but do cock your wrist, keep your head down, stick your bottom out, pivot your weight from this foot to that foot, and for some icing on the cake, hit the ball. Are we having fun yet?
The main problem that I have with golf is that I’m a beginner. I feel awkward and I can’t wear the cute golf-girl clothing. So far, the only thing I like about golfing are the spunky little carts and drinking an ice cold beverage on the 8th hole at Targhee Village golf course.
Do I want to close myself off to learning new things? No, even though my enthusiastic attempt to learn how to snowboard ended abruptly with a double-fractured tailbone and a four-week intimate relationship with a blow-up chair donut, I do want to be open to new experiences. It’s time to swallow my pride.
For the betterment of my mental health by learning something new, I’m going to golf with my husband and take lessons. For my physical self, I’ve set a goal to be able to walk 9 holes by the end of September.
Disclaimer: This blog discusses my personal wellness goals and is in no way a soapbox to tell anyone else how to eat, exercise and/or live their lives.