The saying is really true. You never know how much you love something until it’s gone. I can remember carrying my crappy clubs down that number one fairway at Horseshoe Mountain golf course for the first time. I remember that feeling of a well struck shot and being better than most. I remember the first really good round I played and the swell of pride. I remember adding the card up on that record tying day. I remember high fives from every hole in one and every word spoken. I remember recently how much it hurts; the feeling that I might not play any more. It sounds ridiculous but along with all that love comes a lot of pain. I remember how much it hurt to lose in a playoff. I remember how much it hurts when certain people ridicule me for trying. I remember feeling lost and out of my league. I remember joint pain from hours and hours of twisting and turning. I remember mental and physical agony in May. I remember June and July, one round and a hand full of range balls hit. I remember feeling like it’s ok if I leave the game. I remember lying to myself.

I remember this morning being invited to participate in a big Pro Am in a couple weeks. I remember excitement of that upcoming day. I remember the anticipation of the nervousness of the first tee shot. I remember hustling to work early this morning to hit balls…pain free or at least numbed. It’s the feeling that anyone gets when you are provided a platform to do what you love. Love cuts deep when it’s gone and lifts you as high as can be when it returns. I know it’s going to be difficult to keep this game in my life. I have a baby coming soon, a new home, enduring a ridiculous commute, continuing education and husbandly duties but somehow I will keep the game in my life. It’s never really gone…

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