The Year that Golf Wasn’t…  

Crimson and gold, with yet a sun drenched array of green in varying hues, I relish these days and try to capture the images. For as the temperatures begin to make my hands chap, the reality of winter approaches.

Before the inevitable gloom and shivers, I commit to go outside more or venture at least to the gym in order for me to strengthen, lengthen, and tone because this is the year that golf wasn’t…played, except for once, and only nine holes at that.

Sadly, the lot of us, my father, husband, and I simply could not afford the time between houseguests and my dad’s injury. In my father’s case, he could not physically recuperate quickly enough to meet his goal, which was to golf again in October following a necrotic foot infection that is only now on the verge of completely mending. The result of this, from a simple tumble in mid-May, physically deconditioned us all.

It is curious how we are connected; and although the collective lapse in golf and its benefit to our fitness was missed, I’m sure that it gives a bit of comfort to Dad that he didn’t miss the season alone. We three now need to belly up to the barbells and stick to a workout schedule. Dad started outpatient physical therapy two days ago, and to see his eyes light up, like a kid anxious for a carnival ride, was a joy. When my husband and I worked with various weights and gym equipment yesterday, it stirred up some soreness, but that brought some joy—in a quirky way—for us too.

It’s always hard to start up again after a hiatus from a workout routine, but quickly the endorphins kick in—similar to what happens when springtime turns us into weekend athletes—and we want to run and bike at midnight…until we see the thermometer reminding us that it is freezing.

Then we once again scheme on how to relocate our family to the sunny side of California. It’s nearly two years since we first aspired to it; and as we wait for our eldest kids to wrap up their undergrad degrees, we dream of year-round outdoor play and superb fitness.

Skinny jeans need strong legs, and it’s time to hit the trail so we’ll be ready for golf, hopefully next year.