A man half his age
drives up in his golf cart, a bag twice as big in the back, and addresses the
old fella:
“Say, I hope you
don’t mind me asking … but, how old are you?”
“Ninety-two.”
“Seriously? Wow,
you look so great. I’d love to look like that when I’m you’re age.”
“You could start
right now.”
“No kidding. How?”
“Get out of your
cart and start walking.”
This exchange
reflects some of what I read in a book by Mark Cucuzzella that has a great
title:
“Run for Your Life”
Cucuzzella doesn’t
restrict himself to just running tips (Sound familiar?). And in one chapter he
talks about how he’s a believer in minimalist golf – as in, just how the
92-year-old plays the game – the old-fashioned way.
I can relate. As a
boy I caddied for my dad, carrying his clubs around our city golf links. For
me, golf was like the tennis I played (on municipal courts) and street hockey.
Once you got your
swing down, the mechanics of compact power, you are off to the links. Playing
in soft-soled shoes, hitting the ball true and long and spending time looking
at the treetops, the scudding clouds across the sky, as you strided up the
course. Hole after sweet-release, energy-fueling hole.
Next: Running for Your Life: The Bay Ridge Half, Baby!
