Waking Up Stupid Early
Alarm screamed at me before sunrise. Seriously, why? Coffee maker fought back but I won. Drove out to Sentry Point in the dark, silence feels weird when you’re used to noise.
Got there. Course was empty, just mist clinging to the greens. Felt kinda cool, like having the place to myself. Walked straight to the putting area first.
Putting Grind (Seriously Sucks)
Started with short putts, like really short. Felt easy, until it wasn’t. My hands kept shaking just a little bit – nerves? Took forever to really focus. Tried what this tour pro said in a video once:
- Stood way closer to the ball. Like, inches away.
- Locked my eyes only on the front dimple of the ball. Blocked out the hole, everything.
- Just practiced the smooth back-and-forth stroke, nothing about power yet.
Missed tons at first. Felt stupid. Stuck with it. Stopped thinking, just felt the stroke. Got smoother. Finally, started hearing that sweet tink sound drop in, one after another. Rhythm clicked.
Moving to the Irons
Dragged my bag to the practice range. Wind picked up. Awesome. Started with the wedges. Focused on that one pro’s tip about weight: keep 60% on the front foot always, never shift backwards. Felt weirdly unbalanced at first. Hit some fat ones, some thin ones. Realized I was scooping, trying to help it up.
Forced myself to trust the club and keep that weight steady on the front foot. Swing down harder into the turf. Ball started popping up higher, landing softer. Still inconsistent, but five good shots in a row felt huge. Remembered that feeling, burned it in.
Driver Drama (Always Drama)
This club tests my sanity. Usually, it’s slice city. Visualized the swing: slow, wide takeaway the pro said. Didn’t rush it. Tried to feel loose and powerful, like cracking a whip. First few were ugly skanky slices. Deep breath. Key things I forced myself to do:
- Slow the damn backswing down. Way down.
- Turned my shoulders fully. Like, really coiled.
- Started the downswing with my hips pushing forward, not arms yanking.
Connected with one. Solid crack. Saw it fly straight, little fade. Legit fist-pumped, alone at dawn. Hit a few more like that. Still duffed one. But hey, progress.
The Real Test: Playing Nine Holes
Took the practice out onto the actual course. Early morning dew, slick grass. Used everything I drilled:
- Putting: Focused on that front dimple. Drained three early 6-footers I usually miss. Confidence booster.
- Irons: Kept weight forward, didn’t bail out. Flushed my approach shot on the 3rd. Landed near the pin.
- Driver: First tee shot… shaky. Remembered the coil and hip push. Boom. Straight down the fairway.
Overall score wasn’t my best ever, but felt way more in control. Less fighting my swing, more just playing the shot I practiced.
Biggest Lesson?
The pros are right: it’s about doing simple things consistently. Weight forward. Eyes on the ball. Slow takeaway. Easy to know, brutally hard to actually do every single time under pressure. Dawn practice felt raw and revealing. Body remembers the grind. Feet are soaked, back aches slightly… but damn, seeing those few perfect shots makes it worth it. Need way more mornings like this.
