On Saturday afternoon Gareth and I went to a driving range to whack some golf balls. Neither of us have any interest in golf but we were both in a cranky mood (boring homeowner issues) and needed to hit things.
The driving range, a former cow shed, was empty except for a cluster of teenage boys. I felt about seven hundred years old because as soon as they saw us they hastily stubbed out their cigarettes and tried to look busy. Do we really look that old now?! I've never smoked in my life but I wanted to pick up a smouldering stump and puff away, just to let them know I was young and hip to the cancer sticks.
Then I wanted to run away as I hated the thought of the youths witnessing my lack of skill. There is no laughter more mocking that the the multi-pitched cackle of a teenage boy. But they turned out to be very lovely and helpful, perhaps overcompensating for us busting them with the ciggies, "Have you been here before? Do you know how to use the ball machine? Do you know where the shop is?". Are you lost, old people!?
(I think Gareth was crushed to realise the anti-aging properties of his baggy jeans and hoodie uniform may finally be wearing off.)
Before long we had the cow shed to ourselves and I was quickly reminded that I freaking stink at golf. I didn't nearly kill anyone this time, though I did hit the wall of the shed three times. How the hell the ball managed to turn 90 degrees I will never know, but I do know that I hate golf. At least with a driving range you just hit the balls and leave. It would be so much worse if you had to wander around a course for hours, hating golf while old men in crazy trousers tut-tutted at your incompetence.
Anyway the point of this post was to tell that I now have Golf DOMS. DOMS of course being delayed onset muscle soreness. Somehow 45 minutes of ball-whacking (and pirouetting because I couldn't keep my feet planted) has resulted in two completely useless arms today. My biceps are on fire and the underside of my forearms hurt like hell. I cannot straighten my arms properly. Go go gadget robot arms!
DOMS, from a driving range. Ha ha ha, say the golfers of the world, this is what you get for mocking our sport. Gareth is in pain too, but since it's Man DOMS you can imagine it is so, so much worse.