The 5 minutes was almost up. That’s all the time you get to look for your ball in a tournament. My socks were wet from all the dew that had not yet evaporated from the long blades of grass that I was searching through frantically. I zigzagged my way through the weeds, hopelessly, until the alarm sounded and my time expired. The walk of shame back to the tee box is an uncomfortable experience for anyone. Yet I felt no discomfort from the trip, my saturated socks making noises in my cleated leather shoes, or the unexpected gusts that seemed to pierce right through my windbreaker. It was all part of the grind, and after hitting my tee shot once again, I advanced down the fairway with a blank stare, continuing my round as I had all day. I could see the rest of the team trailing me, looking down, somber, and defeated. My coach followed in the distance, knowing there was nothing he could do to help what was happening. Blowing the chance to win a state championship is an experience like no other. It’s a broad rollercoaster of unpleasant emotions over the course of hours that end up feeling like a few minutes. What started as surprise changed to worry, the worry to anger, the anger to despair, and the despair to shame. Composure became a challenge, and I found myself repeatedly checking to ensure that how I was feeling on the inside was not visible to anybody on the outside. As the round went on, more and more of the world around me became blocked out. All I could do was focus on the shot, hit the shot, find the shot, and repeat the process all over again. On the 18th hole, I was the first in our group to finish, and waited, tapping my foot anxiously from the side of the green, for the rest of my group to finish. This tapping brought me a few years back, when I would Irish Dance on the docks of Alaska as tourists boarded their cruise ships for tips to pay for
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I started spending more and more time at the golf course, and I started doing better and better in tournaments. Seeing this, I began to apply it to other things I was passionate about. I became the best saxophone player in my band. I began to actually notice progress from going to the gym. I even started making better stock investment decisions. It changed my entire outlook on life and what I'm capable of achieving. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar. A player local to the hosting town had just made his putt to tie the lead, and the crowds had erupted in approval. I was genuinely happy for him. He had worked hard and achieved his goal, but what did that mean for me? After the round, I thought more on this, and concluded that I hadn’t prepared enough. If I would have asked myself the same question only a year earlier, I would have certainly believed that I had prepared more than enough, and thought of a separate excuse to blame my misfortune. However, that was the old me, and the new me knew that I just had to work harder. And when state came around the next year, the medalist pin on my chest and team championship trophy in my hands was proof enough that all my hard work had finally paid
I started spending more and more time at the golf course, and I started doing better and better in tournaments. Seeing this, I began to apply it to other things I was passionate about. I became the best saxophone player in my band. I began to actually notice progress from going to the gym. I even started making better stock investment decisions. It changed my entire outlook on life and what I'm capable of achieving. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar. A player local to the hosting town had just made his putt to tie the lead, and the crowds had erupted in approval. I was genuinely happy for him. He had worked hard and achieved his goal, but what did that mean for me? After the round, I thought more on this, and concluded that I hadn’t prepared enough. If I would have asked myself the same question only a year earlier, I would have certainly believed that I had prepared more than enough, and thought of a separate excuse to blame my misfortune. However, that was the old me, and the new me knew that I just had to work harder. And when state came around the next year, the medalist pin on my chest and team championship trophy in my hands was proof enough that all my hard work had finally paid