Handicap

Deciding to learn a new sport at age 63 might not be the wisest decision I've ever made, only a little wiser than waiting til I'm 64.  I took golf lessons for a month and felt as though I was equipped (at least mentally) to have a good time on the course.  Immediately thereafter, I loaded my clubs in the car and traveled to another city, citing a wealth of golf courses and a nearby location of Top Golf.  Three weeks later I came home for a weekend and brought my still zippered golf bag home to stay.  

Catching up at home, then aging into the next year with a busy holiday weekend to justify the fun, required a couple of lazy days to recover.  A morning on the driving range made me wonder if I should start all over.  Deer grazing near the 100 yard flag weren't the least intimidated by my flying balls.  I joined the Women's Golf Association while taking my lessons, but until I can establish my handicap I will be considered only a "social member".  That means I can eat and drink with the crowd of ladies, but they won't play with me.  

In an effort to stop being left off the playground, I convinced Ol' Abner to play a few rounds with me so my scores can be recorded at the club house.  A couple of rounds this week nearly killed us both.  My drives are pretty straight but I'm not getting much distance.  He's hitting further than he thinks and we spent several minutes on most holes looking for a ball that was actually within an easy stroke from the green.  I didn't hit mine far enough to wonder where they were, but at least I stayed out of the sand traps and creeks.  I wonder if there is a limit to how big a handicap can be??