THIS scribe has never been particularly keen on lifting things. Ask me, for instance, to hump the Divan bed away from the wall in order to hoover along the dusty line of the skirting board and you’ll be greeted with the kind of bellowing groan of despair usually reserved for a bull elk that’s just been condemned to a lifetime of celibacy.

The idea, therefore, of being surrounded by weights, dumb bells, medicine balls and various strength-building contraptions would tend to make me feel about as comfortable as Monty filling in a gym membership.

For Kenny McKenzie, this is all, well, par for the course. His flourishing facility, First Tee Fitness, which is based at the Great Western Golf Centre near his home town of Clydebank, is a hive of heaving, puffing, panting endeavour.

Golf remains McKenzie’s passion and helping people of all walks of life get the best out of this game is his profession. Whether it’s touring professionals like Richie Ramsay, Scott Jamieson, Scott Henry, Kylie Henry and recently crowned South African Open champion, Chris Paisley or the “79-year-old club golfer who still wants to get more out of their game”, McKenzie continues to spread the strength and conditioning expertise he has gained over 17 years across the golfing spectrum.

Given his burgeoning reputation, you wouldn’t be surprised if Tiger Woods was seen birling through the Hardgate roundabout en route to McKenzie’s Drumchapel domain. Tiger’s hirples and hobbles have been well documented but with the former world No 1’s brittle back looking as strong as it has for a long time, McKenzie has been encouraged by more modest actions.

“If you watch Tiger, he’s picking the ball out of the hole and he’s not having to think about it,” he said. “Those actions used to look very tentative. If you have to think about doing the simple things, then you know there is an injury.”

Woods, of course, was widely viewed as the man who pushed the physical side of golf to the boundary and beyond while his former coach, Hank Haney, once accused his erstwhile pupil of wearing injuries like an “athletic badge of honour.”

When Woods held the game in a tyrannical rule, McKenzie, like eager observers everywhere, was absorbing that majesty while looking to fill a void in the physical approach to golf.

“We did fitness for every other sport except golf,” he reflected. “Back then I read a journal saying ‘why you shouldn’t lift weights for golf’. I wanted to make the counter argument. A club can be swung at 120mph so why are we not doing something to match it and get the body ready for it? It was just the fear of the unknown. People think you get hurt in gyms. You don’t.

“The right coach is there to make people feel better. You often hear things in commentary saying ‘Rory McIlroy hurt himself in the gym’ but he hurt himself playing golf. In football, you never hear them saying a player has been doing too much in the gym if he pulls a hamstring. He’s probably not doing enough.

“The uniqueness of the golf swing is derived from the errors in your body. If you move in a bad way, you’ll have strange moves in your swing. It’s about trying to move these errors so that you can swing it better. It doesn’t mean you’ll then swing it better - you have to do the technical work too - but at the top level that’s why this collaboration is key.

“Players send me their swing, I’ll do a programme and we meet in middle. But it works at all levels. You always hear folk saying, ‘I don’t play well until the sixth hole’. I say to them not be embarrassed about being the person in the locker room who is warming up for 15 minutes. If it’s good enough for the tour players, it’s good enough for you.”

The very nature of golf’s repetitive swipings, and the forces applied to the body, mean the odd niggle here and there is just about inevitable. Then again, the pain of a three-putt from two-feet can generate far more anguished yelping than a twinge in the lower back.

It can be a rewarding old game, though, and McKenzie had his own fulfilling moment in January as the aforementioned Paisley won his first European Tour title.

“His win was one of the proudest moments of my life,” he said. “I shed a wee tear. You feel part of that win, a small piece in a much bigger puzzle.

“As far as strength and conditioning is concerned, there is nobody not doing this now. Even the guys you think are not doing it, are doing it. They may like their wine and grub but they are still lifting weights and trying to improve. Monty must do something. And if he doesn’t, I’ll gladly take him in.”

And on that inspired note, this correspondent began to gingerly limber up. Oh for the love of … that’s the back away again.