Um, yea...that bloodwork? Still haven't gone. I'm seeing my doctor on Monday for my yearly checkup and I'm not excited about the lecture I'll get. It's totally out of character for me to avoid knowing my cholesterol level. I'm the first one to run to the doctor with a suspicious bump on my skin, convinced it's skin cancer. I never miss a yearly checkup, and I jumped at the chance to have genetic testing eleven years ago. I almost always do everything I'm told to do to recover from an injury or surgery. I just feel like my risks for heart attack or stroke are low. Yes, my cholesterol is probably high, but my blood pressure is normal, I eat lots of veggies, fruits, beans (and not much meat), and I exercise every day. I don't drink, smoke, or do recreational drugs. I'm going to bring these facts up to my doctor and see what she says. She'll probably point out that I'm overweight.
I am doing a decent job of trying to push the boundaries of my comfort lately. I signed up for golf lessons in the spring, and actually made it through all six. I've gone through these particular lessons twice previously and skipped at least two of them each session. I got all panicky that I wasn't good enough, was going to be stared at or thought of as a bad golfer, or chastized by the teacher for not practicing, or I was just too tired to go....or whatever. This time I talked an acqaintance into signing up with me so that I HAD to go (we rode together), and I signed up on Saturday morning, so I didn't have the "too tired" excuse. I took vacation time on the two Saturdays that I would have had to work, so it all worked out. I was pretty proud of myself for making it through the lessons, and when the instructor mentioned the Wednesday night beginners golf league he runs, I was tempted to join. I dismissed the idea, since I'm not a good golfer. After all, if you aren't good at something, why bother? (has truly always been my secret thought in the past about...well, about pretty much everything) However, my friend Julie asked if I wanted to be her partner in the league and "yes" popped out of my mouth. Oh. My. Word. The first week of play I was sooooo incredibly nervous and scared and panicked. But, it was fine. Totally fine. Yes, I'm bad. So is my partner (she's actually worse than I am, most weeks). Big deal. It's a beginners' league, so we're expected to be bad. Everyone we've played so far has been very gracious and patient. I feel so confident now that when my dh asked me if I was planning to play in his dad's family's 86th annual golf tournament, I said yes without any hesitation.
We joined the neighborhood weight loss challenge again this summer, and they added a new component. We get points for showing up to a weekly exercise activity on Sunday afternoons. The first week's activity was beach volleyball. Let me tell you, the last time I had played volleyball was at least 20 years ago. I went to a game with my then-boyfriend, who pressured me into playing in spite of my protestations that I was awful and didn't want to play. Sure enough, I didn't hit the ball once. Not one single solitary time. At first there was laughter -- nervous laughter on my part and "isn't this fun?" laughter on the part of the other players. As the game went on, there were fewer laughs and more sympathetic looks from others, as I got hotter and hotter with mortification. There was grim silence when the game finally, mercifully ended. So, you can understand my reticence about playing with my neighbors. Not to mention the whole "not allowed to jump, run, hop after shattering leg" thing. They told me I could just show up and get points without playing (they all know about my leg), so even my dh was quite surprised when I said I'd try playing. I figured that since it was on sand, my knee might be okay. And it was. My knee was pretty sore the next day, but playing was fine. I wasn't great, but I wasn't horrible. I hit the ball quite a few times and wasn't a total disgrace to my team. It was even kind of fun. Kind of. My dh was very proud of me for playing and I was too.
23 hours ago