Pump your brakes

I have that personality type where when I go in, I go ALL in. There is no halfway for me. When I started playing golf, my “lets hit the ground running” attitude was tempered by speed bumps (aka: my caddy). While this is exactly the kind of thing I find horribly annoying, I have been trying to be more patient with life in general. What this all translates to, is that I did not spend $1m on golf gear the day before I’d even hit the range. And this… has served me well.

This whole new “patience is a virtue” leaf I’ve been trying to turn over is not easy to flip. The truth is, I’ve always been one for instant gratification and a “but daddy, I want it NOW” mentality. I did learn early in my forays down the fairways that this whole golf thing was going to take some time. Even though I have accepted that, it hasn’t always been an easy ride.

Last weekend I played 9 holes with my sister, bro-in law and a friend of ours. We played at the nine hole near their house because it was Sunday and I didn’t want to play 18 (it’s quite exhausting and I had to work on Monday and was trying to be “smart”). Anyway, this course is a great 9 holer because it has 2 par 4s, so you can still hit your woods.

I haven’t really had much opportunity to hit the range lately, but I have been trying to schedule at least 9 holes once a week. So I can’t really say I am rusty, but the obsession I used to have had to change a bit since I am no longer flexible in terms of schedule. Plus I still have some emotional dangling participles from the whole “nomorecaddy” situation. What this all boils down to, is that I am being extra nice to myself and not sweating how I am performing or how many times I’ve made it to the range. I am basically allowing myself to fall back in love under slightly different circumstances.
So there I was, playing 9, and I realized that I no longer put one ounce of pressure on myself. Nope. None. It’s like, well… I will hit Gertie, she will land, I will go find her and smack her again. At some point we will all end up on the green and I may or may not hit her “in”. And I just don’t really care.

OK, well I do care… but not in the way that I would be upset with myself for hitting a bad shot. Honestly I don’t have the emotional fortitude right now (when it comes to golf) and I just want to love it again.

And umm… I do. And I shot a 41(par 29, which leaves me a hair over bogie golf). And I am perfectly happy with that. But even if I’d shot a 61, I would have spent the day, in the sunshine, with my chums, having a lovely day. Since I don’t actually do it for a living, and am not going to get fired, it’s really ok for me to shoot whatever the heck I shoot that day. The number doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I am doing something I enjoy, with people I enjoy, and I am kind to myself. Why would I ruin a perfectly good Sunday being mean to myself?

…”slow and low, that is the tem-po” .