“It was the worst of nines. It was the best of nines.”

Maybe the lesson was that there’s something liberating about playing worse than you thought you ever could, and then getting bad breaks to boot.

Not only did I blow up on the front nine at San Geronimo beyond my wildest nightmares, but when I hit a perfectly straight drive on #9 right down the middle, it hit the “barber hole” (150 marker) dead on and came back 20 yards! No kidding.

But then, somehow… perhaps because I had nothing left to lose, I found my rhythm. I reached #10 (a par 5) in two for the first time ever and birdied it. Once again, I was a different golfer. I shot a 43 on the back, easily my best score on a very tough back nine. Next time I guess I better warm up before I play. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Where else besides the golf course can you have these kinds of experiences? Oh yeah. In life.