I stepped on the weighing machine and the increase in pounds was out of proportion. I decided to resume golf ASAP. The Golf management Committee at my regular golf club had closed the facility taking precautions in lieu of the uncontrollable virus.
My weight and coronavirus both are multiplying phenomenally. By nightfall I had planned to play at a different club the next morning. I chose a Walter Hagen light gray golf shirt, tailor made blue black & gray print shorts, black sleeves, gray wide brim sun hat, black Under Armour belt, gray ankle socks and a pair of black Adidas golf shoes. I put my golf watch and my phone on a wireless charger and jumped into bed to get adequate sleep so I would be able to display my mastery at the game early in the morning. It was already 1:30 A.M. It made me a little uncomfortable that I didn’t have six hours left to sleep. They say good sleep is a prerequisite of better performance at the golf course the next morning. I tried to sleep comfortably, all set for a great morning with golf. The mixed feelings of anxiety and excitement took their toll and I spent another hour trying to snore.
As a result I got up drowsy and lethargic. I didn’t feel like going anywhere so I obeyed my true feelings and went back to sleep. I woke up again and within no time was on the road to the golf course. It’s only a couple of miles from my home. I was on the tee when the sun was out and about.
On this hot June morning the sun was piercing and the wind was absent. The course was absolutely silent and empty. My caddie and I were the two two challengers against a burning sun and a few yellow wasps. They both seemed to be annoyed by our invasion on the golf course.
As soon as I hit the first driver shot, the realization that before arriving at the tee I should have played a couple of buckets at the range, kicked in. It turned out that my one wood was angrier than the sun and wasps. It completely denied my repeated attempts so sheepishly I packed it in my golf kit and plucked three wood out. Three wood performs best when promoted to hit a driving shot. The hot weather, disturbed wasps, angry golf stick, and sleepless golfer can create a classic combination of combusting malfunction. That was so visible in execution of my next shot. Such was the beginning of my morning with golf. You can easily guess the climax of today’s game.
Without any embarrassment, I kept going to the pin, since the ballooning tummy and ever rising body weight were the major driving forces that uprooted me from my quarantine in the first place. I didn’t care how I was playing, I was determined to go on. My game began to settle from the second tee onward.
Instead of appreciating my quick return to the game the sun was getting jealous and began to burn even more as if my improving performance was against it. Sun did not bother to give any relief, rather it scorched more in resent. I had played four holes by now. I omitted the score at the first hole because of multiple mulligan shots. The rest were bogies. By now I was soaked in my own sweat. My hands were immersed in perspiration and my hair was all wet. I was feeling thirsty and worn out completely as I took off from the fifth. My resistance to heat was fading fast. During the posture of the next shot I had an urge to surrender to the might of the sun and regarded its anger seriously. On the green of the fifth where the clubhouse was close by, I made up my mind to conclude the day’s game in complete acceptance of defeat from the sun. I tried twice to roll the ball inside the hole but the ball was also in the mood to give in.
With a long face I began to trudge towards the parking lot. I have accepted defeat from the sun today but I will not lose to a fat belly and weight gain. I must return tomorrow at dawn to sweat it out for good.
Golfer, entrepreneur, blogger, poet, author, wanderer