Five years ago this Fall I belonged to a very nice golf club in Hilliard, Ohio called The Heritage. It was a walkable course and that I did. I'd sling my bag over my shoulder and enjoy the fauna and water and sand which was a constant landing source for my ball. I did this all the way through November.
In January Her Majesty and I drove out to Lake Havasu, Arizona. It's a beautiful area and is separated from California by the Colorado River. Strangely, that January and February were the coldest and rainiest in that area in history.
When we came home I could hardly wait for the warm days to began and around March 14 my course was open and I headed out for the links. First, I went to the range to hit a few balls. Then the first tee beckoned.
I happened to be the lone ranger so I teed off by myself. After hitting a so-so drive I began the trek. At the halfway mark of the first hole in the middle of the fairway. I'd had it. I couldn't breathe. My legs didn't work and I laid down in the grass, picked up my cell and called the clubhouse to have someone come out and pick me up.
That spring I was a volunteer baseball coach for Dublin Coffman High School. One day I decided I'd throw batting practice. I made it through fifteen pitches before two of my players had to come to the mound and carry me off the field.
During that season I had great difficulty jogging from the dugout to the first place coaches box. Some days I'd get the dry heaves. How embarrassing is that? At least when a guy has been out on a bender and heaves he has a good reason to hark chips.
Since the Spring of 2000 nothing has improved. It's gotten worse. I love the game of golf. It is the perfect game for gentleman. If one cheats the only one who knows is the cheater. At this time I am unable to play a 9 hole round and that's with using a cart.
Granted, up until 14 years ago I smoked more ciggies than P. Lorillard could produce daily.
I've been to a doctor and was diagnosed COPD and given a morning inhaler. It worked great for one year; not so much anymore.
This upcoming week is the big Kahoona for me. I've a number of doctor's meetings on the horizon. I'm looking for the Fountain of Lourdes in a box. I want to be able to sleep at night and wake in the morning with my feet tapping out 'Yankee Doodle Dandy'.
I've invested thousands of dollars in golf equipment. The guys who aren't that good always do. We're looking for that one tool, that training gizmo, the ANSWER that will bring back the glory days we never had in the first place.
I want to be able to walk up the first flight of stairs in our condo. all twelve of them, without having to take a nap. It would be nice to carry out the garbage and come back into the house without having to sit down.
Six months ago I took my car four miles to AAA for repair. I threw my bike in the car to peddle home. Four ties along the way cars stopped and asked if I needed help. One of them was sort of cute so it perked me up for a few minutes and I began to peddle.
Actually, if I wanted to be the jerk of all jerks I could easily opt out of yard work when The Queen asks I could pick up yard sticks if ya' know what I mean.
Regardless, I'm kicking in the door on 75 but heck a friend of mine, Ron Mullign who had the golf term 'mulligan' name for him is still playing at 94. I admire him but he also pisses me off. If he can do it why can't?
I've my some wholesale changes recently. I've been on the Keto diet and have dropped 12 lbs. My goal is 180. If I can take off a sack of potatoes that'd be a plus.
My bike is up and running. The first things to go are the legs. Since March of this year my legs got up and went. Not good.
Please understand I'm not complaining though it may seem that way. I understand how life is and I know I've many of the parents gene problems, dammit!
All I want to do is get one last hole-in-one; one final birdie. Oh hell, a par would work nicely for me.
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