Engaged in a pursuit

Getting up before the sunrise never happens unless it’s a golf day. What seems impossible for any other undertaking, the average golfer will stare at their alarm clock just to turn it off one minute before it disturbs the rest of the house, quietly making coffee and sneaking out in the silence of dawn. Never have you prepared for something so much than an early morning round. You spent an hour the day before cleaning your clubs in the kitchen sink and with a new red sharpie you marked your golf balls with your signature three dots just under the logo. You got the car washed because the course you are playing is valet only, but you parked it in the driveway so the garage door wouldn’t wake the neighbors. As if you were about to drive the Susten Pass: your windows are down, crisp air whipping through the car, the first cup of coffee from the pot, and the excitement of the perfect round keeping you warm. We buy the signature merch and we take extra tees with the course logo as souvenirs. We would never spend six hours focused on a thing without getting paid for it and yet here we are. The archetypal, competing amongst friends, hoping to strike that tuning fork before the day is over. Remaining optimistic that the next golf day will be the one. Without skill or talent we remain engaged in a pursuit, confident that we are better than most because there are more of us.