Alright folks, grab a coffee and settle in, ’cause I gotta tell you how these old golfers near put me to shame and what I learned the hard way. Seriously, they’re out there walking the course like it’s nothing while I’m panting like I ran a marathon.
It all started simple enough. I showed up at my usual municipal course last Thursday morning, feeling pretty good about myself. Sun’s out, got my clubs, ready to hit some balls. Figured I’d be cruising through 18 holes. Then, this group rolls up – gotta be late 60s, 70s maybe. They don’t even glance at the cart shed, just pay their green fee, sling their bags, and head for the first tee box.
First thing that smacked me in the face? They weren’t rushing. None of that “gotta hit fast” nonsense you see younger groups doing. Nah. They were talking, laughing, taking their sweet time. I ended up teeing off right behind them. Figured I’d breeze past soon enough. Boy, was I dumb.
My plan? Full gas. Hit the ball hard, walk fast, finish quick. Started pushing hard right from the get-go. Swinging for the fences on the first drive. By about the fifth hole? I’m already feeling it. Legs are heavy, my lower back is starting to whisper threats. Meanwhile, these old guys? They’re just plugging along. Steady. Steady. Steady. Never fast, never slow. Just this constant, even pace.
Okay, gotta see how they do it. So I started watching closer. Like, really watching. Forget the swing mechanics, I was watching everything else they did.
- They walked. Every single step. No carts. Just feet on grass, bags on shoulders or push trolleys. Simple as that.
- Way earlier than me. I rolled in at 9 AM. These guys were finishing their first hole at 8! Cooler temps, softer ground, less people.
- This weird stretching thing. Not like fancy yoga poses. Nope. While waiting their turn? They’d lean on a club and twist a bit. Rotate their shoulders. Swing a wedge slowly a few times. Looked casual, almost lazy. But it wasn’t.
- Stopped trying to crush it. Seriously, they hardly took full swings. Easy swings, solid contact, ball just… found its way down the fairway. Less strain, more gain.
- Hydration Nation. Every hole, without fail, sipping water. Not gulping, just sipping. Had these little bottles tucked everywhere.
- Snacks! Not fancy energy bars. Bananas. Trail mix. Nuts. Eating little bits the whole time.
- Chill like pros. Bad shot? Shrug, maybe a chuckle. Good shot? Quiet smile. Zero temper, zero frustration. It was like stress rolled right off ’em.
My old plan was crap. Go hard, burn out, collapse later. It was unsustainable. These guys? They were playing for the long haul, literally. Decades of long haul.
So, this week? Full experiment mode. Tried mimicking them. Exactly.
- Dragged myself out of bed at stupid o’clock. Hit the dew sweepers slot at 6:30 AM. Air was crisp, course empty. Weirdly peaceful.
- Left the cart key in the car. Parked it and walked. Used my push trolley – felt ancient, but hey.
- Before each shot? Instead of just standing there fiddling with my glove, did the lazy twist, the shoulder roll. Slowly swung the club I was about to use a couple times, feeling out the weight. Seems pointless? Maybe. But something shifted.
- Swung at, like, 80% power max. Focused entirely on hitting the middle of the clubface. Didn’t care about distance, cared about contact. Weirdly, ended up almost as far but way straighter.
- Sipped water religiously. Ate a banana at the turn and munched almonds throughout.
- Made my brain turn off the competitive jerk inside. Bad shot? Deep breath, walk on. Good shot? Cool. Next.
The result after one week? Blew my damn mind. Played 18 holes walking.
- Didn’t feel like I needed a stretcher by the 14th hole.
- Zero back ache the next day. Usually, I’m popping ibuprofen like candy.
- Actual stamina. Finished the round still feeling… okay! Not great, but okay. Huge improvement.
- Scored just as well! Maybe even a tad better because I wasn’t making stupid frustrated mistakes.
- Felt… relaxed? After golf? Usually, I’m a tense knot. This time? Tired in a good way.
So yeah, these old duffers? They know. Forget chasing distance, forget looking cool in a cart. It’s about moving steady, staying loose, feeding the engine, and keeping the head clear. It’s not cheating, it’s preserving. I feel like I unlocked some ancient secret they all quietly agreed on decades ago. Still got loads to figure out, back still twinges a little, but damn. My legs ain’t screaming anymore. That’s gotta count for something.
