The Greatest Game Ever Played They Said…
They forgot to mention the frustration, tears, and wtf that goes along with it.
I did not grow up playing golf. As a kid, the only golfers I really knew were Tiger Woods and Arnold Palmer, and the latter was due to his image on the Arizona Iced Tea can. While my mom had played when she was younger, my dad much preferred to enjoy Michigan’s summer weather from the deck of his sailboat, a hobby he continues today and one that I also quite enjoy. Combine this with the fact that there were three kids who each played multiple sports competitively in the house, and you can see where picking up a game that requires as much time and practice as golf does didn’t quite make it onto the schedule. However, a few years after college, I decided that I wanted to learn. I received my first set of clubs as a birthday present and set to work on figuring out the mysteries of golf.
Now as an adult trying to play, I wish I had started at an earlier age; not only because I would be a stronger player, but because it is in fact a great game. It challenges you in a multitude of ways, and there is something ever intriguing about the fact that no matter how many times you play a course, there is always an element of surprise that can alter (ruin?) your round. As I sit here writing I call it intriguing, but anyone who has ever golfed knows that acceptable synonyms include frustrating, infuriating, and at times soul crushing.
It is that see-saw of emotions that will provide the foundation for this blog. Golf is a great game, and one that I aim to continually improve at, but I can also say that I have never worked so hard at something and still struggled with improving. For someone as competitive as I am, that is a tough pill to swallow. That’s not to say that I haven’t improved since starting; I have made significant strides in many areas of my game, but as someone who lives in a state where I get maybe 5–6 months of golf weather, continuous practice and progress, or lack thereof, has created some additional struggles. Traditional wisdom says that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something (for comparison, there are 8,760 hours in a year). While I am not looking to go pro, even half of those hours is a lot of time, and the realities of adulthood along with a limited golf season mean that my progress toward those 5,000 hours will be slow.
The end goal, which is not really an end because golf is a game of continuous adjustments, but the light at the end of the tunnel let’s say, is comprised of three things:
1) I need to get past the mental blocks that are currently affecting my game. I’ll go more into that in my next post, but for now just know that some of my biggest issues on the course originate between my ears.
2) I would like to be able to go out and play a consistent level of golf. That may start as bogey golf, but if I can improve my techniques to be consistent I would count it as a major win.
3) I want to be confident enough in my game to enter a tournament. I have played in a charity outing with colleagues, but my goal is to be able to enter a tournament and be competitive. Maybe I won’t win, but I also don’t want to finish dead last.
These goals will take time, and there will be plenty of days where I wonder why I didn’t stick to a skill that I am already good at; but there will also be days where I make par or even birdie, or when my chip shots become more consistent, and the excitement of that progress will overshadow the doubts that creep in after a rough round. I hope you’ll join me on this journey to birdie.
Fore!
Katherine
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