I just spent two hours and forty five minutes without uttering anything other than "Why in the world did you go that way," and I could not have had a better time doing it.
I am one of the dewsweepers at my local country club, one of the guys who starts playing golf early in the morning and is done by the time most golfers are just getting ready to start their day. I had the 8:30 tee time this morning, first of the day, and I can honestly say that early morning walks through the woods with occasional moments of joy are good for my soul. I got to see the sun crest over Table Rock in Morganton this morning, got to lip out a birdie putt on the magnificent 15th hole at Mimosa Hills Golf Club, and enjoyed some delectable breaded flounder for lunch, all before 11:30 this morning. There is something special about enjoying nature in almost complete silence, with all of the distractions of day to day life stripped away. My phone was on silent, my ear buds were off, and all I could hear was the wheels of my pushcart rolling through dewy grass; of course, occasional cracks of a clubhead hitting a ball followed by frustrated grunting broke the otherwise pristine silence. Yes, these early mornings spent in solitude at the golf course help keep my sanity intact.
There is something soothing about playing golf in the early morning. With every stroke, you can see lines in the grass where the ball landed and rolled, get to hear the birds waking up and chirping as the sun peaks over the horizon, and every step is another step in the lifelong journey that comes with playing golf. No golfer has ever had the perfect round. Even Tiger Woods at the height of his powers would speak to the reporters after his final round 63 about the strokes he left out on the course. This morning was a perfect embodiment of golf for me. I have not been playing particularly well, I've been fighting a bit of a slice with my driver. But on the 18th hole this morning, I managed to string together 3 shots that keep even the worst of the duffers coming back for more every chance they have. I striped my driver right down the middle, and was left with a nice easy 7 iron into the hole, which leads back to the back porch of the clubhouse. This shot didn't mean much, I had played too poorly to break any personal milestones, so this was simply the last iron shot of the day for me. I struck it absolutely pure, and the club was ringing in my ears as I watched the ball take its gentle parabola from 165 yards out, and stopped 10 feet from the flagstick.
Until this point, I had played 17 holes without saying a word. No "Come on!" or "Bite!" had crossed my lips. I stepped over my ball, and looked at the birdie putt that would make an excellent exclamation mark to my round. I though it was a bit of a left breaker, and I took my putter back with the utmost confidence that it would drop into the hole. As the ball rolled, I waited with baited breath, until at the last moment it careened to the right, which was the opposite direction I anticipated. Then, I finally spoke my first words of the morning, "Why in the world did you go that way?"
I tapped in my par putt to conclude my round.
This has been a crazy year for everyone. Life has been as far from normal as it can get, and yet we are all trying to get through each day with the same vigor and enthusiasm as we always have. You might not play golf. You may have never even been to play putt putt. But I assure you that setting time for yourself, with no distractions or complications, is good for the soul. You might not find the joy that I do in hitting a perfect 7 iron. But all of us need some respite from the hard times that 2020 has brought each and every one of us. Whether it is in a leather bound book, a manicured fairway, or in an artist's easel, we all need relief. I hope you find some, the same way that I found mine this morning. It does wonders for the soul.
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