So recently (last year March) I became a “Walker”. And now absolutely love it. If I have the option to pushcart, I’m 100% in for that but, I carry at my home course because they charge 15$ to use a push cart (I fucking hate that place). I also walk through the summer and live in Houston so, it gets a little toasty and little humid 😂😂.
Last Saturday I lost 6lbs. In one day. Let me explain. I went to play a practice round and sure enough, I wanted to walk it, see the course mo gooder. I got looks inside the clubhouse when I mentioned I’m going to walk. In my head I’m like “ok, fuck you too guys”. LITTLE DID I KNOW..........................
Tee time was 1:30pm. Primo. 93-95°, 1000% humidity. Cool, been there done that. Breakfast was a egg/cheese sammitch around 11am. Zero snacks in my bag. I saw a cart girl driving around so, if I needed a snack, I’d see her.
RED FLAG #1 -
After warmup on the range, total soak show, you could probably make out the outline of my junk, it was awful. I ask a guy there, “where’s the first tee?” He replied “other side of the pool man, it’s a long walk”. I’m not worried, I packed my nut sack today so I’m good and head out. I should have called a fucking Uber... I swear I walked for 15min, easily. I get to the first hole, drenching in sweat. The sweat that you can’t control, like, my shoes were sweating, like, what the fuck man.
RED FLAG #2 -
I walk off of number 2, cool, where’s number 3? ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PROPERTY. Like are you kidding me? I’m 6’4” 283, I’m gassed and two holes deep. Should have gone to the Pro Shop and grabbed a cart........and let those assholes think I’m a Pussy? Nope, if I die, it’s here, on the course...hope they find an even par scorecard on the body. I keep going.
Chapter 10 -
I walk off 9, about as dead as possible and see a cooler full of water bottles, I grab two and boom, dump both on my head. Mistake. Raging headache but, disappeared in seconds. I play on....
Chapter 11 “Seeing Death” -
I get to maybe 14/15. I’m really gassed and just fucking over it. Have picked my phone up maybe 5 times about to dial the clubhouse and forfeit my pride. I hit my drive and it’s a straight uphill hole and I’m like, cool, I’ll get to the top, try not to die, then call these assholes. I get to the top of Mt. Everest and see a rock with my name on it, boom, I take a seat. By now I’m huffing/puffing and very uncomfortable. I reach in my bag to grab my phone and my vision is getting a little blurry, not really understanding what’s going on etc... Look at the map and see what I’m TWO FUCKING MILES FROM THE CLUBHOUSE. Bro, I’m like, if I call them, they’ll be here in like an hour 😂. I text my wife (she kept checking to make sure I didn’t die, which is nice). As I’m about to hit send and call the proshop, I see her. The cart girl. I only had the egg/cheese sammy so I’m pretty spent, body wise. I get some chips/jerky/Gatorade and tipped her $5 because “you probably saved my life today” 😂😂😂 so fucking dramatic. I play on...
Final Chapter -
I walk off 18 and can only think of one thing since it’s next to #1. I have to make the 15min walk back, uphill 😂😂😂. I could only laugh at this point. I did it, got back to my car and sat in the trunk with my feets dangling. Couldn’t believe the death march I just did. It felt good. Felt nice. Looked at my phone time and it said 6:10pm. I left my car at 12:40 and had just gotten back to it. Since it was a practice round I was hitting different shots and taking notes blah blah blah boom 5.5hrs out there making shit happen. Ended up dragging my sorry ass in with a 77, not terrible since I was gassed and done on #3 😂😂😂. Total distance, minimum 7miles. So probably around 8 miles that day. That shit sucked, but I’d do it again 😂
PS:
The qualifier was this past Tuesday. Fired a smooth 90 and sank a 20ft snake for a 9 on a par 5. I tell you what though, John 1, pro shop assholes 0. Big win there.
- Work on not being huge
- Work on short game
- Eat fucking food
I started the day at 283 and when I got home I was 277 😂😂😂
