On Golf and stretching
How do you know when you are 'getting old'? When you really have to stretch. No really, you HAVE to stretch. Now I know many people in the world have ingrained in them a physical education regimen that dictates proper posture and muscle pulls on a daily basis. Heck, I was awake during that Phys Ed class, but for reasons futile, it never became a daily fact of life for me. So for most of my twenties, I would get up, get in the shower, and just go. Stretching only after such strenous activities as sitting in a chair watching a movie, or napping. (Hey, I DO work in the film industry...)
But recently I took up the game of Golf. It was largley on the spurring of my friend Jones, who had noticed a flyer for monthly golf lessons at an affordable price. What followed has been a deepening appreciation of the sport and a genuine enjoyment. For someone who spends his working life in small rooms staring at computer screens (very similar to what you're doing now, only for hours on end), the concept of walking 5 to 7 miles on pristine grounds, enjoying the sun and air with fellow human beings - some of them friends even - is grand indeed. As my addiction deepens, I've been surprised to find how many people I know who also play. And I've since enjoyed many a game with friends I have not seen regularly in over a year.
But last week we hit Rancho Park. Rancho Park is the premier public course in LA, once the busiest in the nation, and is a beautiful and challenging course. Many hills and valleys combine with the pristine fairways and sloping greens-forcing you to think about where you're going to put that ball. And last week, I tried too hard.
Yep, too hard. Evidently, the secret to golf - how all those grandparents in their seventies can play perfect games without collapsing into a heap of calcium and fibertabs on the fairways- is to do nothing at all. At least it feels that way. The golf swing explained to me is like a pendulum. Staying on the correct path, you move the clubhead up, and then in the same manner, you move it back down again. No strain, no "pushing", no trying to hit the ball. And that's where I'd go wrong. Faced with a 548 yard hole, I'd try to hit that damn ball as hard as I can. And when you strain like that, you lose control. And when you lose control, you do either of two things. You either swing up and miss the ball entirely - providing a satisfying "swiiish" sound for your chums to chuckle at. Or you swing down and hit the ground. You hit the ground.....with a steel pole....as hard as you can.
Now repeat 80 times.
Oh, and carry a bag of similar steel poles on your right shoulder.
Oh, and walk 7 miles up and down hills, wearing cleats.
When I finally entered my living room, a full six and one half hours later, my wife remarked that I looked like a train ran over me. I didn't immediately reply, I was too wrapped up in sucking 32 oz. of Gatorade as fast as I could. The next day the back pains began in earnest, and two weeks and two chiropractic appointments later, I am somewhat back in the saddle. Though I can't golf or even start something vital like yoga or pilates for a few days more.
How embarrassing; I'm an invalid because I twisted wrong.
I have learned lessons from this. Golf is athletic, no matter what others want you to believe, and you need to prepare for it before you tee off. Stretching is good for the body. And I need to take care of myself better. I'm not 21 anymore, and I can't 'bounce back' the way I did in college. I'm signing up for a Yoga course soon, as I need to work out the 'core muscles' (the ones that actually hold the bones together. I never knew that was an issue!). And I will practice better body management on the course.
So hopefully, by the time I turn thirty, I won't walk up to the tee, hit a grand 320 yard driver, and then promptly collapse into a pile of calcium and fibertabs.
Yuck, right?
But recently I took up the game of Golf. It was largley on the spurring of my friend Jones, who had noticed a flyer for monthly golf lessons at an affordable price. What followed has been a deepening appreciation of the sport and a genuine enjoyment. For someone who spends his working life in small rooms staring at computer screens (very similar to what you're doing now, only for hours on end), the concept of walking 5 to 7 miles on pristine grounds, enjoying the sun and air with fellow human beings - some of them friends even - is grand indeed. As my addiction deepens, I've been surprised to find how many people I know who also play. And I've since enjoyed many a game with friends I have not seen regularly in over a year.
But last week we hit Rancho Park. Rancho Park is the premier public course in LA, once the busiest in the nation, and is a beautiful and challenging course. Many hills and valleys combine with the pristine fairways and sloping greens-forcing you to think about where you're going to put that ball. And last week, I tried too hard.
Yep, too hard. Evidently, the secret to golf - how all those grandparents in their seventies can play perfect games without collapsing into a heap of calcium and fibertabs on the fairways- is to do nothing at all. At least it feels that way. The golf swing explained to me is like a pendulum. Staying on the correct path, you move the clubhead up, and then in the same manner, you move it back down again. No strain, no "pushing", no trying to hit the ball. And that's where I'd go wrong. Faced with a 548 yard hole, I'd try to hit that damn ball as hard as I can. And when you strain like that, you lose control. And when you lose control, you do either of two things. You either swing up and miss the ball entirely - providing a satisfying "swiiish" sound for your chums to chuckle at. Or you swing down and hit the ground. You hit the ground.....with a steel pole....as hard as you can.
Now repeat 80 times.
Oh, and carry a bag of similar steel poles on your right shoulder.
Oh, and walk 7 miles up and down hills, wearing cleats.
When I finally entered my living room, a full six and one half hours later, my wife remarked that I looked like a train ran over me. I didn't immediately reply, I was too wrapped up in sucking 32 oz. of Gatorade as fast as I could. The next day the back pains began in earnest, and two weeks and two chiropractic appointments later, I am somewhat back in the saddle. Though I can't golf or even start something vital like yoga or pilates for a few days more.
How embarrassing; I'm an invalid because I twisted wrong.
I have learned lessons from this. Golf is athletic, no matter what others want you to believe, and you need to prepare for it before you tee off. Stretching is good for the body. And I need to take care of myself better. I'm not 21 anymore, and I can't 'bounce back' the way I did in college. I'm signing up for a Yoga course soon, as I need to work out the 'core muscles' (the ones that actually hold the bones together. I never knew that was an issue!). And I will practice better body management on the course.
So hopefully, by the time I turn thirty, I won't walk up to the tee, hit a grand 320 yard driver, and then promptly collapse into a pile of calcium and fibertabs.
Yuck, right?
posted by DLoyd76 at 4/19/2005 10:21:00 AM
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