Playing Through

Once upon a time, spring marked the beginning of my golf season. It used to be that, sometime in March, I’d drag out the golf clubs, which had been dormant since November, take them out to the range and hit some balls. My first swings held a prediction, like the groundhog. If I sliced or hooked, it meant I had some work to do. If I hit the ball straight, it meant 8 months of good golfing ahead. Usually I’d hit it straight and say to myself, “Yup, I still got it.”

But, since I played through the winter this past year, there are some things I missed, such as when golf season ended in the fall, that sudden excess of time on my hands, which had enabled me to cross off neglected chores from my to-do list. And this spring, I won’t have a first round of the year where I am grinning ear-to-ear with delight at the novel sensation of fresh air on my face, and I am happy as a puppy to be playing outdoors in the grass.

But if I hadn’t played through, I wouldn’t have made progress with my swing. I wouldn’t have come to the realization that I am tough enough to play when it’s cold enough for snow.

Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the warm weather and sunshine. But spring means only one thing to me now: Time to break out the bug spray.