If one were to live to be 80, then the first 40 years would be the front nine of life, and the second 40 would be the back nine. Of course, one doesn't ever know such things for sure, but edging towards 70, I can safely assume that I am indeed well into the back nine of life.
In golf, as many say, sometimes it only takes one good shot to keep a player coming back, and often a struggling start can be forgotten with a strong finish. I would like to make it to the 19th hole of Life with a flourish, in the company of good comrades sharing in the laughter, the retelling of the tales of our challenges and how we met them. That is how I found my way to join a country club.
As exercise and morning meditation, especially during Tucson summers, I like to wake up early, pack up my clubs and pushcart, and head out to play. I sign up for walking nine, and while all the foursomes are lined up to tee off on the first, I go off on the back nine by myself. Often, I am the first person playing these holes for the day. The grass is wet. I leave footprints and ball-paths on the greens. The local wildlife are out for their morning feeding and I see coyotes and rabbits and turtles and all kinds of birds. The quality of morning light on a desert morning is exquisite. The light is softer, filtered through the trees, rather than blazing down from overhead, and I spend as much time looking around me as I do thinking about golf.
I like that as a metaphor for the back nine of life as well: not worrying so much about what needs to be done, but rather savoring what's left of the journey. Of course, I don't keep score on these solitary treks. I hit several balls, practice different kinds of shots, and let my body and mind experience what it feels like to get up and down from just about anywhere, or to punch a low draw through an opening in the trees, or to hit a high soft fade over the treetops. Golf is about trusting one's swing, club choice, and strategy and I find this to be the best way to practice all three. It's also when I imagine myself still conversing with old Twisted Eel.
