Paul,
My question to you (or anyone who has had similar experiences) and any apologies for sounding trite, but can you get a sense of this diminished skill and the resulting new perspective on architecture to a certain degree from "imposing" limitations on yourself?
I don't think so because that would be an inherent conflict.
I always tried to score the best I could.
Intentionally imposing limits on yourself undermines or thwarts that effort.
The limitations have to be external, beyond your control.
Because I lost my equilibrium along with my strength, I had no weight shift and couldn't get long and medium irons airborne, as they were intended, thus every feature took on magnified proportions.
I had to avoid bunkers and other defensive features at all costs.
Thus, I navigated around the golf course, with an emphasis on the need to avoid trouble.
I also learned to swing within myself since any extra effort resulted in a fluffed shot. Hitting 2-irons, 4-irons and 6-irons from 160, 140 and 120 yards was a neat challenge, and, in most cases, I never had to worry about going over a green.
However, the game and challenge never ceased being fun.
In fact, it was more fun because I had to avoid more features and be more creative. AND, the joy I experienced when I parred or birdied a hole was euphoric, especially if I beat my opponent on the hole.
In June of 2004, weighing 70 pounds less than my normal weight, not being able to drive it 180 and having great difficulty getting my irons airborne I shot one of the great rounds of my life in a medal play qualifying round in a tournament at NGLA.
It remains one of the most satisfying rounds of my life.
While I had scored better at NGLA, including sub-par and sub 70 rounds, shooting a few strokes over par that day was such a triumph for me.
I had been invited out of kindness, by my hosts and the club.
I accepted the invitation, thanked them for their kind gesture and told them that despite my condition, I would be competitive.
I was a little irritated when it was suggested that I enter the Senior Division and play from tees forward of the championship tees.
At age 62 I had never played in the Senior Division, choosing to deny my advanced age by always competing in the regular division, which I went back to the next year.
For whatever the reason, I felt no pressure during the entire round until I stepped onto the 18th tee, realizing that I had a rather good round going, especially in view of the conditions. At that point I was a little afraid that the round might get away from me. I so wanted to break 80 and didn't want to take a huge number that might ruin that for me. Fortunately I parred the hole and was surprised at the other scores when all the rounds were posted. Mine was the second lowest in the division and about 8th lowest overall, allthough I played from shorter tees.
While I believe my course management skills were honed to a higher degree due to my condition, I think the joy of just being able to play NGLA, coupled with my desire to compete and my will to overcome (read stubborness), along with being amongst my many friends and acquaintances gave me an inner satisfaction to the degree that I just enjoyed the day, the course, the round and my playing partner.
The above factors in conjunction with my intense desire to be competive along with my recognition of every architectural pitfall is what produced my round of the ages.
At the players dinner that night, the M.C. made a special toast to me, my competitive spirit and my round.
It remains one of my most special, if not the most special round of my life.
I couldn't duplicate that round if I tried.
You just can't impose the same limitations that poor health/conditions do.
It was a round of my mind, heart and soul.
My body just prevented me from shooting under par.
