It’s another bachelor weekend for yours truly. My lovely wife left with her family for Mississippi yesterday to attend a cousin’s wedding. A couple of urgent projects at work kept me sidelined here in Nashville. So for the second Saturday in a row, I’m weighing my golf options.
The key questions: 18 holes or 36 holes? McCabe or Harpeth—or both?
With no foursome scheduled this week, I’m probably going solo. Ten years ago I would’ve thought it strange for someone to just show up at a course. But I’ve quickly found that trying to coordinate schedules with a couple of other twentysomething and thirtysomething guys is quite an ordeal. So if I can play, then I go play.
Cool thing about it—you never know who you’re going to get paired with. Last month, I played the back nine with a United States Congressman. Maybe I should’ve lobbied him to vote against this ridiculous bailout bill. But oh well…that’s another issue.
Though I haven’t played 36 holes in a day in probably ten years, I’m considering tackling this daunting mission tomorrow. Georgia has a bye week. My wife won’t be home until late evening. The weather in Nashville is beautiful: high around 80, cloudless, just enough wind to cool off any slight perspiration.
The alternative? Sleep in. Tee off late morning. Play 18. Come home and watch football. Maybe tinker around the house and take care of a few small tasks.
Daylight savings is just a month away. Weekdays will be useless for golf, limiting my already limited golf schedule to one day a week.
I need to take advantage of any opportunity to work on rebuilding my golf game. And, most importantly, I need to establish my new handicap by spring—before amateur tournaments and qualifiers begin.
I’ll probably just wake up early and see how my 32-year-old bones feel. Regardless, I’m putting pressure on myself to break 70—my summer low score. If I don’t set goals, then what’s the point?
Hope your Saturday is just as beautiful, wherever you might live.