Did you know I’m an athlete? No, really. It’s true. I played tennis for years. (Because I thought the skirts were super cute.) Then, I played soccer for a couple of years in high school. (Because if I played two sports I could waive my last PE requirement. Ironic, I know.) And as of about two hours ago, you can now add golf to my ever-growing list of athletic endeavors. (Also a skirt sport. But this time I’m playing because I like to spend time with my husband. And I really like the spa at most golf resorts.)
The story goes a little something like this … four years ago (when our daughter was about four months old), my husband, thoughtfully, bought me a full set of golf clubs for Christmas. It’s not that I didn’t want to learn to golf at the time. It’s that I had a FOUR MONTH OLD INFANT. And a toddler. And a full-time job. And so, the clubs sat in the garage. Until this summer. When my husband bought me a driver for my birthday. Always an optimist, that man. Always wanting to hold me captive in a golf cart for four hours of pure quality time. I love him. But I still have two pre-schoolers. And a full-time job.
And then today, the golf gods thought it would be great if we could both have Columbus Day off … while our kids had school. Perfect day for golf, is it not? Indeed. Just to be very clear, there is no spa at this particular golf course. But it was sunny. And I did promise myself I’d get out in the elements this month. My husband swears it’s a great stress relief to be out in the fresh air getting some exercise. Just nine holes, he says. You know that while I’m on a mission to minimize my material goods, I am on a simultaneous mission to minimize stress. So, here we go.
Nothing like fertilizer and fungicides to clear your head. Am I right? Around about the first Par 3, I was convinced I was going to be the first in our family to score a hole-in-one. By the second Par 3, I figured if I could just triple the par, I’d still be in the single digits. By the seventh hole, I was channeling my inner Happy Gilmore … tappy-tap-tap …
I’m pretty sure golfers don’t get this much exercise when they take the golf cart out. Which we did. Only I somehow still managed to make my way down the fairway in a serpentine-like fashion … first to the rough … then the trees on the other side of the fairway. Then all the way around the perimeter of the green … in a star-like pattern.
And by the eighth hole, my husband, the innate coach, was instructing me on how to improve my swing by just letting it feel natural. Natural? Natural like child-birth, you mean? Because this feels a lot like the pain and exhaustion of child-birth. Would you like to tell me how natural castration by golf club feels? I’m not sure I’m what he considers a “coachable athlete”.
So, for those of you, my readers, who are focusing more on the stress minimization aspects of this blog than the material minimization, a word of advice. Find your own stress relief. They are not all created equally. And someone else’s happy place may not be yours.
Meanwhile, let me know if you’re in the mood for a little comic relief. I believe we’re golfing again next weekend. If I’m really lucky.