Back on Course

I dusted off my gently-used golf glove yesterday for a visit to the range with a new friend from church. We're the same height, so she let me share her clubs. I was happy to discover what little I once knew about swinging a golf club came back to me.

My relationship with golf is complicated. No one in my immediate family golfs. My grandpa did - and does - religiously, but I never learned. Golf is for women who are confident in their physical coordination and grace and ability not to hack up a perfectly-coiffed green or hold up other foursomes with swings full of air. It's not for women who sheepishly lose mini-golf balls under colorful bridges and in the dark corners of tiny castles meant to liven up a putt-putt game, not end one.

What doomed us, golf and me, was a charity tournament. The responsibility to organize it fell in my lap and resulted in two of the most stressful months of my life. Hole sponsors, foursome assignments, goody bags, printed programs and volunteers to coordinate - and after two tireless months it barely broke even. I have never felt more out-of-my element than I did at that tournament, pretending I had everything under control when I didn't know a mulligan from a birdie and twice nearly took a ball to the head while walking obliviously between a golfer and his hole.

Then I fell for a boy who golfed in all of his spare time. Hoping to get a larger share of that time, I swallowed my animosity for the game and agreed to try. Several times a week, I practiced my way through a hundred or more golf balls, swatting mosquitoes between swings in the summer evening heat. I hit just well enough that first time to be intrigued at the challenge. I'm not a natural at any sport. But I started to think that summer that if I practiced enough, I might be a mediocre golfer. At the end of the summer, the boy and I went our separate ways. He took back the iron he'd been letting me borrow and I didn't feel like I belonged on the range without him.

Back at the driving range yesterday, I remembered how much I enjoyed the zen-like challenge of breathing and twisting and swinging a club in concert. I think I still might have a chance at a mediocre golf game. And since the Carolinas have perfect golf weather six months out of every year and beautiful courses around every bend, I think maybe I'll give golf another try.