Golf

For years I thought golf was absolutely ridiculous.  I mean, come on.  Everyone has to be quiet when you hit the ball.  The ball is resting still; no one's throwing it or hitting it at you.  You get to pick the tool you'd like to use when you strike the ball.  

Yawn.

Seriously, how hard can it be?

I stand corrected.  Golf is very hard.  You have to be able to repeat the same motion time and time again when the slightest variation, and I mean a half of an inch of variation, can send the ball careening to the left, to the right, or at the heads of innocent bystanders. Now factor in wind, bunkers that tower 12 feet over your head, or deep grass that swallows the ball.  It's not surprising that most beginner golfers spend hours trying to hit the ball, watching it run amok or not going anywhere.  

For years my husband and son have asked me to play.  They love golf and are both very good golfers, but don't seem to care that I'm a mess on the course.  They just want to spend time together doing something they love. With me.

And so, this summer, I swallowed my pride.  I whiffed and whacked at the ball.  I played once or twice a week because practice really is the only way to get better, no matter how humiliating it can be.  And, lo and behold, I did get better.  

Now I have the golf bug.   I've made new friends and had lots of laughs.  I've walked miles on the course on lovely days.  I've learned to hit the ball a distance longer than a football field.  Even two.  I can, on good days, get out of the bunker in one or two shots.  Okay, I still need to learn how to putt.  

I have the golf bug.

P.S. For a good laugh about golf -- WARNING: with explicit language -- watch this skit by the brilliant Robin Williams.  Here's the link.