Over the past several weeks, I’ve become a true cheerleader for golf.
However, even though I’ve been playing more often, and spending hours at the range, I still... by most standards... suck.
Denying golf’s frustration is like... let’s see... it’s like denying a huge elephant which happens to be sitting in a barn with a bunch of small horses. Okay, that made absolutely no sense. What I’m saying is that I’ve discovered it’s useless to deny the frustrations of golf.
Speaking of frustration, it surprised me to see a number of brilliant … and seemingly established.... PGA and LPGA players heading back to Q School in hopes of regaining their tour cards. What could be more frustrating than that?
On a more... humble... level, I sometimes feel like my own frustration is nearly as epic that of the beleaguered Q School returnees, simply for because I allow it to get there.
When the swing I’ve (supposedly) been perfecting at the range produces only a series of awkward, ugly worm-burners on the golf course ...and the putts I focus on so intently just refuse to ever roll in.... I have an emotional response that involves anger and disappointment... and on occasion... a major meltdown.
Fortunately, there's a bright side. As in: I’m learning to marvel in my strengths and take joy in the good shots... however rare those may be at such an early stage in my golf love-affair. This naturally lowers my frustrations for when something does go awry. Setting small goals that will hopefully lead to my bigger ones, is another thing I’m trying to do.
And I’ve got to admit, by the end of each round or practice session... despite some inevitable frustration... I always seem to have a huge smile on my face because I got out there and worked on the game I’m growing to love.
