Back into the Swing of Things

First off, if nothing else, I have nailed the puns in this blog and isn't that the real goal of this little project?

Alright, so after a week of withdrawal I finally got back out on the course for a Wednesday night nine with the coach. Thankfully there was no score card in sight so the train-wreck that was about to commence would not be recorded. Consider this round an thorough walk about the driving range... But the range is actually the course... And I don't hit from one set of tee blocks the entire time...

I caught the Coach and Kathy for the back nine at Sunset Golf Course and went in colder than a Floridian in Canada, and promptly lost two balls off the tee. One to the road on the right and the other sunk into the mud on the banks of the creek with a disgusting "thunk". Needless to say the Coach was not impressed.

"C'mon Lis, tee it up properly and let's go."

"Thunk" into the mud.

"Use Kathy's drive."

The rest of the round was pretty similar. Hook, slice, flop, thwack. I found a lot of the course and not many of my balls. I was pretty much disgusted with myself and went home grumpy with the lack of constancy. Really? Only seven days had passed since my last round and this is what I am left with? It's like losing five pounds dieting and then having one day of cheats and gaining back seven.

The Coach was trying his damnedest to lift my spirits, giving me tips and trying to enjoy the round he was having himself. I was ready to throw my golf bag at him. Looks like I found my competitive spirit.

After effectively destroying my own game and the Coach's, I returned home to lick my wounds - which translates into pecan pie and marshmallows.

Next day was Ladies Night Thursday, which also happened to be a scramble... which I forgot to sign up for. Ooops. Looks like round two with the Coach! I could hear the joy in his voice when I was chatting on the phone with him.

I was there early and grabbed a bucket of balls to take to the range and warm up. There were three young bucks at the range already driving balls. I don't know why or for what reason but I was super intimidated to walk up and start taking a few shots myself. Again, I refer back to the performance on stage. No clothes, running around like velociraptor? No problem. Hitting a stupid ball with a stick? Sweaty palms.

As I drop the balls and get a few solid connections, the boys (notice the de-evolution in terminology) started to work on their Happy Gilmour approaches. I do have to admit, it made me feel a whole lot more comfortable to see people goofing off and not taking things so seriously. Maybe this competitive streak is getting in the way of my enjoyment?

The Coach arrives and we tee off the back nine with a couple other friends. Who happen to be males. So much for ladies night.

This round was WAY better than last night's.

I was still finding most of the right-hand rough of the fairways, but I was making better, more consistent shots. Happy Lisa. Which also means happy Coach, because I wasn't staring him down with a look of, "I will club you with this three-wood," and was listening to what he had to say. Thanks Coach. My coffee cup is dedicated to you today.
                        
I finished up the night with a 58, not too shabby. I think I can officially start to form a goal for the summer... Dare I type it out loud?

I will break 100 this summer. 

*Gasp*

Oh, boy. Now its out there. Gird your loins.  

The Doctor is in...

I was having a lovely little discussion the other day about healthy lifestyle choices and I was eager to brag about my golfing and how I was out at least once a week to walk a lovely nine and I was horrified to learn that doctors do not consider golf to be a physical activity which will lead to weight loss. You heart rate does not raise high enough, for long enough to burn enough calories... 

Clearly these docs have not toured around with me on one of my 175 rounds. Heart rates are raised - not to worry and the delightful tour around all of the course seems to help my cardio. In fact my face can be quite red at times, even my ears turn a shade of pink after the second splash into the same creek, in almost the same spot. But who's bitter? 

Speaking of worry, it has been over a week since my last round and I am having visions of a 14 stroke first hole again. Not that I didn't enjoy my trip to Hamilton (to watch the cast of the GDCI Drama Club rock the world at the Provincial Showcase for their production of Last Man Hanged, which I helped direct), but I have fallen out of my 2-3 rounds a week groove. I am concerned that any progress I have made will be hiding somewhere on the course, three rounds from now. 

Tomorrow is the first test of muscle memory. Oh boy. I really hope there is good news to report! Like riding a bike right? Repeat: Oh boy.

That's Some High Quality H2O!

Well after what I felt, was a spectacular tour to Kitchener (despite losing the couples match), I returned to the home turf.

I was able to catch up with my good friend Kathy, who just so happens to be president of the Ladies Night League and the reason I am playing in the Ladies Night! We were both not able to get out on the usual Thursday, so we had our own round.

I didn't have a chance to hit the driving range, so I wasn't too sure how wonderful this nine night be.

Tee up on the first hole. Over-correct for my wicked hook/slice/whatever race for the right of the fairway. Pull back. "PING!" God I love that sound. If you can believe it, I hit a seven on the first hole, cutting my usual stroke tally in half. Dear Kat, you are now my good luck charm.

Our round went really well and I took advantage of the nuggets of knowledge Kat was offering up. I learned what a handicap is and other sneaky tips about how to play the course smarter. I was well on my way to a high 40, low 50, when I hit the last hole...

I ended up way out to the right (as usual) and behind a tree. Not the first I had found this round, but I was pleased with the distance. Swing. "THWACK!" Shit.Tree. Hate that sound. I think I lef the high 40 on that branch. Swing. Finally where I want to be, but realize as I get closer I am actually take a creek bath. Damn.

I scoop out my ball and Kat advises to drop further back because the hole lies at the top of a hill. I already dropped the ball and decide to hit because I have already dropped. Should have listened to Kat. Swing. "Chunk. Splash." Sigh.

I can see the low 50 float down the creek.

I take Kat's advice a drop further back. I make it up the hill to the back of the green. Chip. Putt... Putt.... (Shoulda had that one...*Grumble)..... PUTT...... PUTT?!

Well 58 ain't bad, but it should have been lower. At least the company was great and refrained from saying, "I told you so." Thanks Kathy!

Hood On Tour

Time to put my slowly falling score to the test.

Last summer, the Coach and I won a set of passes to Rebel Creek in Kitchener which also happens to be close to my sister and her husband. We had scheduled this weekend back in February/March and hoped to god that we wouldn't have to wear long-john's and toques, but luckily we had perfect weather.

I would like to point out that this was the first round of the season for my sister and I was pretty much out to "wow" her with my mad skills.

Taking notes from my last discovery, we grabbed a couple buckets of balls and headed to the driving range. This Saturday also happened to be the "Stag Tournament" which meant there was a surplus of testosterone laying about the course. That and pollen, but we'll touch on that later.

As my sister and I rolled up to the driving range you could hear the audible suck of air as a crowd of 30-something men heaved up their beer bellies still lingering from University. Oh yes, we are impressed. Clearly your swing and ability to hit a tiny ball with a stick informs me of your ability to perform as an alpha male... Men.

Coach and my sister's husband return with buckets and find us a spot between territorial teens and a lone man who suddenly grabs his driver as soon as we get settled. I take a few swings and my sister is impressed with my improvement from the previous summer. My sis winds up and drills one out into the great, green beyond. You can pretty much hear alpha male's penis recoil in shame.

"How's the crossfit working out for ya?"

The alpha beside us is now as red as his Tiger Woods Sunday best, and is madly pounding balls trying to catch my sis' mad drives.

Soon practice time is up and it's off to see how well my three games of golf will serve me on an unfamiliar course, with some pretty wicked looking hills and sand holes ("traps" is too small of a word).

The Stag Tourny was running behind and our team time was bumped back by about 15 minutes while we and about six other twosomes of alphas waiting behind us. Great. An audience. And my first hole is traditionally messier than a 16 year old on prom night.

Seriously, get me to run around in my underwear on stage, singing "touch-a-touch-a, touch me" in front of 200 people? No problem. Swing a freaking golf club in front of six people? Imagine the worst possible outcome and that's what I did. Everyone else got a golf clap, I got snickers... Not the candy bar.

The weather was perfect and once I got myself settled into the game I ended up playing a great game. Yes, there were more than a few "whack-F**K" moments and a bottom lip that seemed to hang in shame. The pout lip, but I shot a 66/56. Best round yet! My sister was something like a 49/48... First round of the year? Look out Adam Scott, my sis is going to show you how to play.

The only major issue this round were the loving "embraces" made by my seasonal allergies. Sweet mother, I need an entire kleenex box on the course. If I'm not swinging, I'm sneezing. Gross. How does one face have that much to expel? I guess I will also be working to lessen the sneezes along with the swings...

Won the Battle, not the War

After work on Friday, the Coach and I squeaked in 9 holes of golf before glow balls would have been necessary.

I have discovered that my first hole of the round is usually the most pathetic display of athleticism. The last two rounds were 17 and 13. Not even joking. 17. On ONE hole. Bubba Watson probably shoots that in 9 holes. Note to self: Go to the driving range to warm up .

The rest of the round turned out to be the best of my season, thus far. Yeah, yeah its only the third round, but  still, I thought that breaking 70 would be my goal of the entire summer. Woot! Point, Lisa!

After the sun had set and my drive was finally finding the outer right-hand side of the fairway, we called it a night and headed into the club house to enter in our scores. (I still need to determine a handicap, despite the fact that I still have zero clue what that is or does for me. I just need to enter that in every time I golf. OK. I'll ask Coach later.)

I had yet to set up my name in the computron and after getting a speed tutorial, we entered in my first score of the season (175) and my score from tonight. I punch in my new low score I was extremely excited to show off, and then we had to punch in the old one.

1-7-5. Enter.

"I don't think that is actually a score!" says the mean spirited computer. Exclamation point and all. Jerk. I don't think you are actually a computer.

Turns out I can only count 10 strokes a hole. Really. Well then. I guess my score is about to get lower.

Look Out Ladies, There's a New Swinger in Town...

One of the first suggestions brought up to me after confirming my membership this summer, was to consider joining the Thursday Night Ladies League. 

Oh god. People are actually going to see me golf. I forgot that this was a sport I have to play in public. And as much as I imagine myself being a good player... I'm really not.  

"Sure?"

And there it was. I was going to play in the Ladies Night League on Thursdays. On the big course. 

Thankfully, I had my dear friend Jannet (pronounced 'Jeanette') who also agreed to join and is also facing her first year as a legit member. We can't say that we have never been on the course, but we lack the skills to make this game look easy. We also enjoy walking as exercise, and let's just say we get lots of walking in.

Our first Thursday was a meet and greet dinner, where we enjoyed a delicious supper and drinks at the Country Club (sounds posh, eh?... but I can say that now!) and met the ladies we would be screaming "FORE!" at later. There was a brief chat and discussion about rules and handicaps (and other words I had to write down to ask the "Coach" aka. hubby, about later) and different fun events that would be held through the summer. 

As I looked around the room I was seeing some serious golfers and after an award for a "Hole in One" was handed out from last year's Ladies Night, I felt a slight twinge of nervousness. I looked a Jannet and she had the same look of, "Oh, crap. What have we gotten ourselves into?" We were completely fine with wasting our own time, chasing a ball all over hell's half acre, but to drag a stranger on that long and frustrating journey? These poor, poor women. They have no idea. 

Then the entertainment started. 

A Zumba instructor was shimmying and shaking herself between tables trying to encourage us out of our seats. I've been to parties where the host is in a panic because no one is dancing and I volunteer to to "Get This Party Started" and proceed to awkwardly dance alone until someone takes pity and joins me. This involves a lot of alcohol, which I had not consumed nearly enough to dance in front of a bunch of lady golfers, whom I could potentially take out the next time I swing a club. 

One woman starting swaying in her seat and Mrs. Zumba tried to get her up to no avail. We all chuckled through the awkwardness and then one woman called across the table and the music, to another sitting next to Jannet, "Why don't you get up and dance?!" 

More chuckles, but the lady that was sitting next to Jannet didn't smile. She stared right back at the other woman, too a sip of her vodka/cran and said,

"When I dance, my clothes come off."

I think I'm going to like this Ladies Night. 

Not Just a Good Walk Ruined

I'm coming out the of closet today as.... A Golfer.

For many of those who know me, they will say, "So? You own your own clubs. We knew a long time ago." Even my mom and dad weren't surprised when a told them about my 2013 Membership to the Sunset Golf Club, just outside of Goderich. I can hide it no longer.

I like, even love, to golf - and I'm not ashamed to say it!

This is my attempt to chronicle the first year of my Membership to the Sunset Golf Club and my journey to a (hopefully) lower score. Encouraged by a patient and often frustratingly good golfer/hubby, I will attempt to break some type of score and straighten out that hook... or slice.... I don't know which is which. (See what I mean, newbie golfer...)

I hope that you will enjoy the journey as much as I will!