Long Walks, Velociraptors and Running my Husband over with a Golf Cart....

I returned from my holiday weekend in Myrtle Beach wishing I could press the rewind button and start all over again. It was not that I was looking for a redo, in fact it was quite the opposite. I just wanted to find a way to extend the fun. I had spent the weekend soaking up the sun, taking long walks on the beach with my hubby, exploring new neighborhoods and reacquainting myself with my golf game. It had been the perfect prescription for washing away the stress from the last two months. 

Thank You Marriott Points

We started every morning with a long speed walk up and down the beach. This was our way of easing the guilt about some of the other choices we were making that weren't quite so healthy. It took only one walk for me to realize that speed walking on the beach was a completely different animal than walking on either the treadmill, sidewalks or streets. Things weren't level, so I found myself struggling to keep from tripping over unexpected dips in the terrain. The walking surface fluctuated from hard to soft to hard again which resulted in continual changes of pace and played havoc with my lower back. After a frustrating first walk, I tried a different tactic and removed my shoes for my next walk. While it didn't seem to make sense, I had much better success walking the beach in my bare feet.

Saturday afternoon we opted to hit the golf course instead of the beach. It was my first time golfing since well before my surgery, and I was anxious to see if I had lost the skills I had begun developing before I was forced to stop playing. I had only newly discovered the game of golf shortly before I started having my health problems, so I had only made small strides towards improving my game. Even the small strides had seemed a great accomplishment at the time, however, and I was really hoping I wouldn't find myself back to square one.

The first drive was encouraging. I hit the ball both straight and relatively far. The next few hits weren't quite as fruitful, but considering it had been over a year since I had played, I still felt pretty good about the way things were going. That is until my husband asked me why I had grabbed my pitching wedge instead of my putter to sink the last shot. I tried to play it off, but in the end finally had to confess that I had grabbed the club because it was marked with a "P". I knew something was not quite right when I grabbed it, but it wasn't until Chuck pointed it out that I had my "Aha" moment...the "P" was for "Pitching Wedge" not "Putter." 

I tried hard to redeem myself on the next few holes and was pleasantly surprised that my drives had actually improved significantly. Unfortunately my chipping and putting had suffered quite a bit in the absence of any regular practice, and after overshooting the holes multiple times,  Chuck lovingly dubbed me "Velociraptor". Surprisingly enough, the low point of the afternoon was still ahead of me, however.

We had just pulled up to the sixth hole and had a wait in front of us before we could actually tee off. I decided to use the break to quickly return a call. Meanwhile, Chuck had stepped out of the driver's side of the cart to get a bottle of water from the cooler. Just as he started to sit back down, I noticed the cart beginning to roll down the hill. I reached over with my left foot to hit the brake while trying to continue the conversation on my cell phone. Much to Chuck's chagrin, I missed and hit the accelerator instead. The cart lunged forward knocking him from his seat. I am sure at that moment it must have taken every ounce of his patience not to ask me to return to the clubhouse and quit the game forever.

Seventh Hole Heaven

 Needless to say, my sixth hole didn't go so well. I was fretting over nearly maiming my husband and was beginning to feel discouraged as well. Finally, on the seventh hole, it happened. I had my golf moment. That one hole in the game where everything comes together and the magic happens. I hit a line drive over the water and landed on the green in the first shot. It would be my best hole of the day and it was enough to remind me why I loved the game. It really didn't matter how many holes went badly, it only took one good hole to make me feel like a champion again.

 My weekend was over and I couldn't press rewind to start again, but I could look ahead to the next weekend. I might not be able to have the beach under my feet, but I definitely saw a game of golf calling my name.