To say it is orange is not right. Red-orange, perhaps. Blood-orange. The sun moved out of sight in the west just beyond the shoulder of the 18th tee box. As I turned my back to the burning star, I beheld the view from 18. The Green Mountains in their purple-mountain majesty. Still himals in April, snow covered and littered with people earlier in the day carving lines through its snowy depths. I love the view from 18. Classic Vermont. Yet tonight there was something else. The moon in its full flower was rising just to the north of Bolton Mountain. This was certainly worth the walk around the course; certainly worth working through the fatigue and the soreness to continue playing. As I hit my approach shot, it soared into the sky towards that fat moon. The moon blessed it and the shot rolled inside the edge of the green. We were able to finish in the waning light of the day. A summer day in spring and the close to a long winter, six months long.
Why do people (the uninformed) think that golf is not athletic? I can barely stand after walking 18 short holes and I'm in pretty good shape. This game involves walking with a heavy bag, bending, swinging, and concentrating. The swing is a full body movement. My shoulders are strained and tender. I'm ready to collapse. I don't think I could do what Tiger Woods and Trevor Immelman do -- play four rounds in four days. Admittedly, they don't have to carry their own bag, but golf is a sport, and a fitness requiring and fitness promoting one at that (provided you walk and don't drink too much beer along the way).
Click here to see my home course, the Links at Lang Farm.