Being that my health is fairly stellar these days (apart from a few little side trips to fungal ball, sinus, cyst, and dental root specialists), I have been kicking ass on The List 🙂 A recent checkmark I want to share with you is zorbing. I know. WTF is zorbing? Read and learn.
One of my biggest regrets in life thus far is not excavating my GoPro from the depths of my suitcase on Zorbing Day. If I wasn’t such a lazy ass, I could have taken you with me into the hysterical world of zorbing. I’m afraid my lame description will leave you yawning into your phone or computer screen, but just take my word for it (you trust me, right?) – you must zorb if given the chance.
It was invented in New Zealand, so I figured that’s the spot that should give birth to my zorbing career. I approached the counter and inquired if the eggs benedict I had engulfed about 45 minutes earlier could reappear in a partially digested incarnation during my rookie run. The attendant answered with a mischievous Kiwi grin.
I signed some sort of legal thingy, waved farewell to my husband, and jumped in the truck that shuttles zorbers to the top of the hill. There I was introduced to #2 aka My Zorb. My Zorb was a giant clear plastic ball partially filled with (warm!) water.
I was instructed to dive through the 24″ opening on the side. Um, let’s just say that move was not nailed. With a mortifying fart sound effect from the plastic (I swear!), I got stuck mid-dive. Half in, half out. Prairie doggin’, if you will. My zorb master had no choice but to awkwardly shove my butt into #2. Once inside, I righted myself to a seated position, the zorb was sealed, and I was launched down the zig zag track!
The zorb is spinning, the water sloshing, and my body is sliding on the inner waves, trying desperately not to drown on the trough of liquid being hurled into my face. I laugh deliriously as #2 and I swerve to the right, then suddenly to the left. I have never howled like I did during my wild ride of slippery spasmodic washing machine turbulent fun. Could you hear me from down under?
Finally, #2 came to rest at the bottom of the track. The attendant opened the hatch and I gushed out in a drenched, hysterical heap. It was righteous. √ Add zorbing to your List!
UPDATE: The probable fungal ball in my sinus turned out to be a boring non-issue cyst, after multiple visits to new docs including an otolaryngologist. What? You’ve never been examined by an otolaryngologist? I highly recommend it. Add it to your List!