4:55 AM
neuve
Seven times. That's it. That's all the times I've been out on the golf course this season. And of those seven, only one has been 18 holes - the rest have just been nine.
For someone who typically plays 30 times or more in a season (many of which are of the 18-hole variety), just seven rounds through the end of September is a pathetic display of golf neglect. Now I realize that for some of you, seven rounds in one season is actually a good amount of golf. But for me it's like I didn't play at all.
Keep in mind that I'm the guy who played all the 18-hole public courses in his state. I'm the guy who writes for a golf blog. And I'm the guy who co-owns a social media site about GOLF! In some way, I feel like I've let you all down.
So how does something like this happen? How does a self-proclaimed lover of golf manage to only play a mere seven times in one season? Well, for starters, I got a late start. In fact, most of my golf buddies did too. It was May before we stepped foot on a tee-box.
Perhaps this was mostly my fault. You see, I'm usually the tee-time organizer - calling everyone to make sure they were "in" for a particular Saturday and then booking the time. But this year, I wasn't doing much organizing. Instead, I was busy playing with blocks; changing diapers; and trying to turn the words "gaga" in to "mama" or "dada."
My son was born last October - perfect timing (if you asked me at the time), since golf season was basically over. And I wasn't kidding myself either - I knew once springtime came, I'd be playing less golf because of the new bundle - I even prepared to play half of what I normally would. But so far, I've only played a quarter of what I normally would. I'm hoping next year I'll play a few more rounds, but who knows? Life has changed.
But the baby isn't the only reason my time on the links has dwindled. Last month I was diagnosed with gout (a build-up of uric acid, typically in the joint of your big toe - and it had me hobbling around for days). I'm 36 years old. What the hell am I doing with gout? Old guys get gout. Ben Franklin had gout. But someone in their 30's? Come on! (Though it does happen to people younger and in better shape than me).
The Doc says I drink too much beer. Who doesn't? And, I'm about 30 pounds overweight. Who isn't? He put me on an anti-inflammatory and told me to alter my diet. After missing two perfectly awesome golf weekends in the past month, I've dropped 8 pounds and the hobbling has dissapeared. But it can come back if I'm not careful, and I really don't want to go on a uric acid-reducing drug for the rest of my days. Again, life has changed.
It's been an interesting year to say the least: The baby has been an unbelievable joy; the lack of golf, a disappointment; and the gout, a wake-up call. But there's still at least a month left in the golf season up here in the Northeast. My son's first birthday will take up one of those weekends, but let's see if I can squeeze in a round or two before the last leaf falls.
You know, it's years like this that make you appreciate every time you're out on the golf course.
For someone who typically plays 30 times or more in a season (many of which are of the 18-hole variety), just seven rounds through the end of September is a pathetic display of golf neglect. Now I realize that for some of you, seven rounds in one season is actually a good amount of golf. But for me it's like I didn't play at all.
Keep in mind that I'm the guy who played all the 18-hole public courses in his state. I'm the guy who writes for a golf blog. And I'm the guy who co-owns a social media site about GOLF! In some way, I feel like I've let you all down.
So how does something like this happen? How does a self-proclaimed lover of golf manage to only play a mere seven times in one season? Well, for starters, I got a late start. In fact, most of my golf buddies did too. It was May before we stepped foot on a tee-box.
Perhaps this was mostly my fault. You see, I'm usually the tee-time organizer - calling everyone to make sure they were "in" for a particular Saturday and then booking the time. But this year, I wasn't doing much organizing. Instead, I was busy playing with blocks; changing diapers; and trying to turn the words "gaga" in to "mama" or "dada."
My son was born last October - perfect timing (if you asked me at the time), since golf season was basically over. And I wasn't kidding myself either - I knew once springtime came, I'd be playing less golf because of the new bundle - I even prepared to play half of what I normally would. But so far, I've only played a quarter of what I normally would. I'm hoping next year I'll play a few more rounds, but who knows? Life has changed.
But the baby isn't the only reason my time on the links has dwindled. Last month I was diagnosed with gout (a build-up of uric acid, typically in the joint of your big toe - and it had me hobbling around for days). I'm 36 years old. What the hell am I doing with gout? Old guys get gout. Ben Franklin had gout. But someone in their 30's? Come on! (Though it does happen to people younger and in better shape than me).
The Doc says I drink too much beer. Who doesn't? And, I'm about 30 pounds overweight. Who isn't? He put me on an anti-inflammatory and told me to alter my diet. After missing two perfectly awesome golf weekends in the past month, I've dropped 8 pounds and the hobbling has dissapeared. But it can come back if I'm not careful, and I really don't want to go on a uric acid-reducing drug for the rest of my days. Again, life has changed.
It's been an interesting year to say the least: The baby has been an unbelievable joy; the lack of golf, a disappointment; and the gout, a wake-up call. But there's still at least a month left in the golf season up here in the Northeast. My son's first birthday will take up one of those weekends, but let's see if I can squeeze in a round or two before the last leaf falls.
You know, it's years like this that make you appreciate every time you're out on the golf course.
