My regular readers may remember that I’ve written a few themed series of essays over the years. These multi-part arcs covered a particular topic that was important in my life at the time—Transitioning to Retirement; Losing Weight. Those essays, though, were always about a lot more than the titular subject. Transitioning to Retirement involved much more than just turning in my employee badge. Losing Weight involved a whole lot more than the process of restricting calories. We are about to start a new arc, on learning to play golf. And I can tell you, this will be about so much more than just the mechanics of swinging a club.

I have long been fascinated and intimidated by golf. It started with a cartoon that a friend at work had on her office door that showed a caveman holding a stick with a triangle-shaped rock strapped to the end and a round rock on the ground near a hole. The caveman pondered the situation, thinking, “I bet I could hit that rock with this stick and it would go into that hole.” The cartoon was titled, “How Man Learned to Swear.” My exposure to golf started much younger. As a kid, I was taught to swing a club at summer camp when I was eight. I am left handed and I was taught right handed because of course I was. I’ve used that as a convenient excuse ever since for why I suck at golf. Then, there were a smattering of obligatory work golf outings. And when I lived in Mexico, I lived in a gated golf community where greens fees were included in my rent. I bought a set of clubs before I moved down and in three years played a grand total of 27 holes. I figured golf just wasn’t for me.

Why learn to play now? Well, I’ve mentioned that Trish and I joined a golf club, right? We joined as “dining members” two years ago and little by little have availed ourselves of everything the club has to offer, except golf. Trish plays bridge. We both bowl, play Mahjong, and participate in the book club. Plus we attend a myriad of other social events at the club. We’ve gotten to know a lot of people through all these activities (and by “we” I mean mostly Trish and then I get to tag along). The pressure to play golf has been constant and increasing from Day One.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought golf would be the PERFECT hobby for me to dive into as I approach my 64^th birthday. I have the time and, fortunately, the resources to really give this a “go” now. Golf is definitely one of those things that you have to put the time into if you want to improve. I never had the time or physical energy while I was still working. “But, Sherri,” some smart ass is saying, “haven’t you been retired for almost 10 years now?” Well, yes, but that brings us to the other barrier. My long time readers also know I suffer from crushing perfectionism and a need to be good at everything I do. In many ways, those tendencies have served me well over the years. Not so much if you are a beginner at golf. My sometimes-crippling insecurity doesn’t help, either. However, I am committed to a few very important things in my life right now: challenging myself with new activities so I don’t stagnate; staying physically active as much as possible as long as possible; and, enriching my life by being more social. Golf fits all three of those goals.

I must give a big shout out to our friends LouAnn and Kristin who invited us to join them for a series of Member-Guest lessons with the club’s pros. When they asked us, I almost immediately said YES, not because I was finally ready to tackle this challenge but because I knew committing would MAKE me tackle this challenge. My partner, LouAnn, was infinitely patient and encouraging. My guardian angels clearly sent her to take care of me through this! But before we could start the lessons, there were some “pre-steps.”

First I had to figure out if I should swing left handed or right handed. I purchased (“purchase” being a key word related to anything “golf”) a lesson with the pro at the local Golf Galaxy who determined I should stay right handed. That has got to be one of those jobs that comes with a prescription for Xanax. He was so calm, as I almost took down the simulator with a wayward smack of the ball. None of my swings sent the ball more than 45 yards and, had I not been in the simulator, would have taken out every customer browsing the sale racks to my left. I had some work to do. I won’t even discuss what happened when I tried to swing left handed. “Your right handed swing isn’t that bad,” he deadpanned. “We can work with that.”

A friend from the club graciously gave me her old set of clubs and I headed to a local driving range before our first lesson. There is a reason those ranges have barriers between the stations. It takes a certain skill to hit the ball 90 degrees to the right, taking out the bucket of balls, hitting the barrier, and ricocheting behind me to hit the barrier on the left side. Mad skills, just not the right ones. The picture that accompanies this essay is actually the art on a t-shirt that I bet Trish will get me for my birthday. Over thinking is a core competence of mine and one that does not serve you well in golf.

After a $300 shopping spree at the PGA Superstore (the shopping aspects of golf will be the subject of a future essay), I was ready for my first member-guest lesson! I had the gear. I looked for all the world like a golfer! I was smiley and chatty as we gathered for a pre-lesson drink. Inside, I was petrified. We’ll pick up on how those lessons went next time.