Juneathon day 8: Bring on the plus fours…

Yesterday I thought that I wouldn’t have chance to do anything new and exciting this week, but it turns out that husband (who needs a good, non-twee nickname for me to refer to him as. Oh, no,  apparently he’s happy being husband, the least I can do is upgrade him to being a proper noun) has an idea….

So after a quick forage around tesco, we’re off to the driving range. At first glance this plan seems flawed in so many ways. I have a slightly suspicious view of golf (the same way that other people see Morris dancing or late night text messaging services on Five). I have incredibly rubbish shoulders, no sense of balance and struggle to organise my limbs to do anything more than the most simple of tasks. I’m terrible at not being good at things and get very ratty with Husband when he tries to teach me stuff.

One hour, a basket of balls and a golf stick later… I’ve managed to find and lose my rhythm at whacking them down the grassy bit, narrowly avoided taking off the head of the bloke six booths down from me, chipped several so close that I can nip on and retrieve the ball without being shouted at, realised that golf is a lot harder than it looks and managed to confuse the automatic tee by my attempts at either belting a chunk out of the astroturf or gently wafting the club over the ball.

I hate to say it, but I quite enjoyed myself, though I suspect that my shoulders and back will be grizzly in the morning. They’re still recovering from Wii-fit boxing on Saturday night.

Juneathon’s really made me ponder on several things this week, but I should crack on with my presentation so I’ll have to keep pondering til another post. It’s certainly made me realise that Juneathon is wonderful for procastinating…

Juneathon day 4 – you put your right foot in, your right foot out, in, out, er.., out? in? er… right ? left?

It’s official – I’m hopeless.

Today I have learned (or had reinforced) that I have no co-ordination, rubbish balance, a general listing to the left and I’m overweight. For giving me this knowledge I have to thank a high impact aerobic class and a wii-fit.

The aerobics was hilarious. Picture the scene; the class is being held in one of the boardrooms so we spend the warm up shifting tables and chairs, it also soon becomes apparent that the air conditioning is tamperproof (well the controls are covered in parcel tape) so it’s like working out in an oven. The class consists of 9 women and 1 man; 9 of us are giggling furiously, the other is a pert swishy ponytailed lady (I shall say no more).

Within about three minutes, I’m age 5 at ballet class – grinning like a loon and swinging my limbs with wild abandon. It turns out that I can work the top half of my body, I can work the lower half of my body, I can move in all major directions; what I can’t do is more than one thing at once. I’m like a marionette whose puppet master has his fingers trapped in a socket. Despite this, I really enjoyed myself and was quite chuffed to not be too exhausted by the aerobic aspect.

I’m not likely to try it again and it’s made me wonder if aquaerobics is a good idea given that it’s aerobics with the added risk of drowning. On the plus side, no one will see my lower half, so I’ll only look half as bad…

And as for the wii… For reasons that are far to complicated (dull) to explain, I have possession of a wii for the weekend (wiikend? Fnar) and have to play with the balance exercises. I have an appalling sense of balance to the point that I can fail children’s balance assessments (and that’s a fact) – generally it’s a miracle I stay upright. The highlight of my evening has been shouting “panda! panda! panda! shoe!” at the header game and then falling off the board. Who the hell decided that a disembodied panda head was the thing to hurl at footballers? And why haven’t they written to the FA with the idea? It’d liven up the game as far as I’m concerned.

Back on the early run tomorrow morning providing I don’t fall over in the meantime.