Golf is more like yoga. Plus you walk about 60 miles, unless you cheat and use a cart, which my mom refused to ever do.
We watched women’s beach volleyball last night. It was cool watching a sport that I’m “expert” in, that Rick is not, and being able to explain why something happened the way it did. To yell, “THERE IT IS!!” just based on the set up, before the ball is even spiked. I did my best to blather non-stop through the whole thing, like he does when he’s watching football, but I just didn’t have that much to say, other than, “Block it block it block it!...NICE!!!”
Then “Hey! Yo! One of my best hits ever, was a block I made that dropped down on my side of the night, right in front of me. From my soaring position in the air, arms reaching up, I folded my legs and brought my arms down and around, landed on my knees and picked that ball right back up and put it into play. It was great!”