No Really...I'm NOT An Athlete

I'm good at quite a few things, however, sports is not one of them.  And quite frankly,  I don't care.  I never played team sports growing up, only took the minimum, two years of physical education in high school, was the worst tennis player in my college tennis class and I never...NEVER attempted to join an adult women's sports team after I was married.  Once, a friend approached me at church when I was young and asked if I would like to join the women's softball team.  I stood there for a moment, I'm sure looking at her like she had just grown a third eye,  when my husband laughingly interjected, "Have you seen my wife play softball?!"  Now, you might think that hurt my feelings a bit but I'm here to tell you that it absolutely did not.  I could care less if I'm good at sports.  Truth is, I really don't care about them at all.

Now that you understand where I'm coming from concerning sports, you might imagine my total surprise when Hubby announced that we were going back to Miami again this spring (yippee, yahoo!) and our friends were also coming with us for the first part of the trip (awesome!) and that we were going to fish for peacock bass again (yay!) golf (WHAT?!).

Once upon a time (about 20 years ago), I took a few golf lessons; I never really played much.  Why?  You've got it...I'm NOT an athlete.  Hubby bought me a set of golf clubs a few years ago.  I went to the driving range once to hit a few balls.  Why?  Well, I never really intended to do much golfing because it's usually either too hot or too cold or basically because I AM NOT AN ATHLETE (And, I've decided too lazy to play...Golfing is hard work!)  SO...Hubby decided that I would take a few golf lessons before we left for our trip; a crash course, if you will, in golf.

He signed me up and I attended 3 lessons last week.  I got ready to leave the house in my yoga pants and flip-flops and was told that there was a "dress code" for golf (ugh...are you kidding me?!).  I changed clothes. On Saturday afternoon, Hubby said, "Let's go out and play a few holes".  Now this would be the test.  Because not only am I not an athlete, I'm also a complainer when it comes to attempting to do something I'm not good at.  That, along with my smart mouth (Hubby's words),  does not generally make for much fun on the golf course.

The first several holes we played, I must say, were pretty rough.  Oh, I can hit the ball; I just don't like taking instructions on how to make my game better.  OK, I don't like to take those instructions from my husband.  There...I said it.  As I said, it was pretty rough UNTIL...he learned to "speak my language".  You see, he would tell me where to stand,  how to move my feet or how to swing the club and I totally did not understand what he was trying to tell me.  And then he said the word, "Tempo".  Ahhh...NOW he was speaking my language and my ears perked up and opened up!

It was truly an "Ah-Ha Moment!"  You see, I'm a music person and I understood the word tempo and exactly what he was instructing me to do.  I started swinging the club better and found that my attitude actually improved.  Do I think that I'm capable of playing 18 holes?  Absolutely not.  And playing 18 holes twice in one week?  That's laughable.  Am I signed up to do it?  YEP!

        I've decided that if you can't play well, you might as well LOOK as though you can...

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