I was on the golf team in high school. I don't usually share this because first it rarely comes up in normal conversation and second, people assume I must be really good, which I am not. I joined the team to learn the sport and be with my BFF Tanya. Golf was a blast. We would hit buckets and buckets and buckets of range balls and then go collect them by hand and do it again. We'd practice chipping for what seemed like forever and then go golf 9 or 18. My first home course tournament began with me driving the ball into an old farm silo to the right of the fairway. The silo was roofless and my lucky shot landed right inside. I crawled in the silo to shoot it out a 3 foot by 2 foot hole. This opening drive provides perfect imagery for my golfing career. As my mom still declares, I have a beautiful swing, but as I like to point out everything else came with great effort.
What I love about golf. I LOVE walking the course. I am not the golfer that rents a cart. I so enjoy golfing in the early morning when the grass is wet and dewed up. I never had a golf glove or golfing shoes. Not because I didn't want them, rather I felt one needed to be to a certain level to wear that kind of attire. I never arrived there. I golfed 2 times this past summer with Ted. We had a blast, but it wasn't pretty. In fact, one hole I was so frustrated I put myself on a time out for the next hole. After that I decided to not count the strokes, whiffs, penalties and so on. I am thankful to my high school gold coach Mr. Gadd. I tell you that man had patients like a Saint! I am thankful to know a game that I can enjoy today and in my future blue hair days as well. One last memory, I once got hit by my own golf ball in a tournament. The ball left indents in my forehead. I had forgotten to yell fore.
What I love about golf. I LOVE walking the course. I am not the golfer that rents a cart. I so enjoy golfing in the early morning when the grass is wet and dewed up. I never had a golf glove or golfing shoes. Not because I didn't want them, rather I felt one needed to be to a certain level to wear that kind of attire. I never arrived there. I golfed 2 times this past summer with Ted. We had a blast, but it wasn't pretty. In fact, one hole I was so frustrated I put myself on a time out for the next hole. After that I decided to not count the strokes, whiffs, penalties and so on. I am thankful to my high school gold coach Mr. Gadd. I tell you that man had patients like a Saint! I am thankful to know a game that I can enjoy today and in my future blue hair days as well. One last memory, I once got hit by my own golf ball in a tournament. The ball left indents in my forehead. I had forgotten to yell fore.
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