About 8 years ago I quit cold turkey. At the time no remorse, no explanation needed, and certainly no mas. After 4 years of countless balls on the range and hours on the course I finally came to believe that golf was truly "A good walk wasted" (props to M Twain). Although I live on a golf course (dog leg left of #1, easily found on Google Earth), the turmoil wasn't worth the so-called relaxation. At the time I also learned I could get in a killer 4-hour bike ride the same time it took me to play a lousy round. Two hours of quality running outshone 9 holes of awful golf. The country club scene bored me and my triathlons were more satisfying; so I quit. Resigned the club membership, packed away the expensive sticks, got on the bike, and never looked back.
Until this past week. I was strong-armed to play in the local hospital fundraiser. I had virtually not even picked up a club these past 8 years. Had no interest, no desire, no need. But I did it anyway. I had a blast. I hit all 3 par-3's, I hit many fairways, I didn't hit anyone, and only had the need to drink one beer. Overall a good day. I also relished doing a guy-thing. We laughed, cursed(them more than me), drank, and flirted with the ball girl in the plaid shorty-shorts(me more than them). I also remembered why I hadn't played golf the past 8 years: I suck. The more I run, the faster I get. The further I bike, the better I am. The more I golf, the more I curse. It's not good karma. I really don't care if I play next week, or next decade again. But, for this escapade, I had fun. I liked being with my friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment