Monday, February 02, 2009
I came out of hibernation on Saturday -- as did many other golfers -- to take advantage of the warmth. While many were content to drive away at the range for a few hours, I had work to do: Milt's par 3 test. 45 minutes (9 holes) total. Heart rate numbers were recorded, as was wattage, and the deed was done. The rest of the afternoon was just sleeping -- soaking in the Z's.
Funny thing about ice. Golf balls bounce really really far off of it. So I was hitting each of my clubs about 50 yards farther (including the roll).
The highlight of the day was on hole number 4. 195 yard (3 wood for me, 7 iron for the pros). You've seen the hole before if you ride the keystone. It goes from north to south and is where that black chain link fence is and the sign that say something like "Caution: errant golf shots". As I was getting ready to swing, I heard voices. Cyclists voices. I looked up and saw 3 or 4 Bellevue bike club riders going from south to north.
"I'll just let them go by, just in case I'm recognized".
So I waited a moment. Then came, I don't know, 30-40 more riders in a group. Great. Well I'm not waiting. "Please lord ..." Swing. Perfect 195 yards. Straight. Pretty. Green. Perfect. Now I can look up with pride ... A-hem! Did none of you cyclists see that? Oh well. It was a nice shot. I swear. It's almost as if the cyclists didn't even care about golf. Weird.