I played in my club championship this past weekend...

I play in a lot of tournaments, but, nothing prepared me for what I learned playing in our Club Championship this last weekend…

I’m not going to do the “good writer” thing and bury the lead, making you read the entirety of this thing to find out what you already want to know, which is:

How did I do?

If you’re anything like me and always look for that: “Jump to Recipe” button when you’re on the internet trying to figure out how to make cheesecake or kung pow chicken or whatever, I’ll save you the click. Here is “How I did”: I’m not going to lie, I did pretty well. I went season low on the first day with 2 birdies and shot a 40 on the back 9. Played steady eddy on the second day with 2 back-to-back birdies which was a first for me. I took 3rd in gross and 1st in low net. Let’s just say this all felt highly out of character as a course 16 handicap, and this was not for lack of any stiff competition.

Now that you know “How I did”, I want to get into the "how I did", because the "how" is the entire reason I wanted to write about this experience, is because based on the results, the how I did kind of happened…on accident.

My golf buddy and I are best friends on and off the course. We both started playing about the same time roughly 6 years ago, and thus our golf journeys have ebbed and flowed and crossed paths in a kind of “dance” if you will. It has been interesting to see how we both have approached each aspect of the game over the years; noting how we differ or share the same goals, processes, and results. At this phase in our journeys, we have both more or less settled into our own respective rhythms of golf pedagogy. She, being a dancer by nature is process-driven: meticulous and deliberate with every shot she commits to. She wants to learn how to do things the ‘right’ way. I have seen her change her swing more times than Jennifer Lopez has changed husbands, but at the end of the day, and when she connects well with the ball it is truly supernatural. She, unlike me, likes to bring this exercise to the course, even if it doesn’t fit into her current physical vernacular; she is down for the grind during her round. I on the other hand have become more results-driven, a little more compartmentalized in a way. Having played a plethora of sports and being mindful of the importance of having a strong mental game as well as a physical one. So that being said, I try to leave my 'practice' at the range or at the putting green. I have learned that personally, my best chance for a good round of golf happens when I ‘leave the grind behind’™ when approaching the first tee.

So that being said, let’s get into what all of that has to do with how I played in the Club Championship. “How” being the operative word…

The Club Championship is a different kind of tournament. It's a special time when the energy is different, and it is the ideal opportunity to establish yourself among the best and most respected players at the club, ‘performance’ dependent of course. Now golf is a “gentleman’s game”, and what that means to me, is that the term ‘performance’ extends beyond the scorecard, and is additionally representative of a player's attitude, conduct, and overall consideration for the game, it's heritage, and other players. Just take a look at how some of the LIV tour players have been treated around the greens during the PGA majors – in golf, a respected ‘performance’ is about more than just ball striking. I have seen how the way that a golfer represents themselves on and off the course can absolutely affect their game as well as those around them. That being said, I try to keep it simple: what you see is what you get with me. And the “me” is a lady. Yes, a swearing, drinking, and at times highly un-couth lady(#knowyouraudience), however, when it comes to the comfort and respect of those around me – there is no guesswork, my intentions are honorable. I take pride in my ‘performance’ all around, and unless you give me a reason to otherwise socially divert, you have my respect and the benefit of the doubt.

With this definition of ‘performance’ in mind, I greatly respect the high-'performing’ golfers at my club. I try to honor what they have accomplished. I watch how they conduct themselves, and I pay attention to how they treat others, and how others treat them. When positive, I try to learn from and by their example. As a results-driven person, I do this by practicing what I preach and put these values in motion every day. So, what does this have to do with how I played in the Club Championship? Well, as it turns out - a lot.

The most important relationship one can have on and off the course is with ones-self. This is of course easier said than done. As I’m sure most of you can relate, there is nothing quite like having the round of your life, and as you stand over your next shot, something in the back of your head screams: “Hey don’t blast this one out of bounds, lol”. Peace out, ball – Sayonara low round - Hello burying my sorrows on the 19th hole. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to actively notice when that little voice pipes up, and say to it: “Listen here you little fucker: I hear you, and I acknowledge that you’re scared, but right now I need to hit this shot”. And then, in turn, go forth, fully commit to, and hit that next shot. Why is this so difficult!? When I step back and think about it from 10,000 ft, this is actually pretty simple. All that little voice is saying, is that there is a part of you that is scared because if you are not able to execute it this shot, that you will feel silly and stupid and thus out of control. So what better way to feel back in control than to sabotage the shot – hey, at least if we commit to sabotaging it, we can feel like we were in control of the result right? Well, if that’s the only thing holding me back from hitting the shot, then that’s pretty dumb. The truth is that the only way I’m going to contently walk away from any shot, executed well or not, is if I fully committed to it. Even if I do end up blasting it out of bounds, at least I don’t have to walk away wondering “what if I actually tried to stay in it – what might have happened?” As a 16 handicap, it didn’t feel right to set a goal of winning this thing, so I decided to set more of an intention, rather than a goal.

The intention I committed to was this:

For better or for worse, I am going to stay “on my own team”, for two rounds. I am going to authorize myself to fully commit to every single shot. I am going allow myself to care, and I will not allow myself to be made to feel silly for caring. I’m going to leave it all out there and see how far it takes me. I’m going to commit to “staying in my body, and out of my head”. I’m going to commit to smiling and breathing through every shot. I’m going enjoy my own company, and I am going to show up for myself, 100%, regardless of the result.

And that’s just what I did.

Let me tell you something, I have never felt more grounded on the course in an otherwise high-pressure situation, ever. My lower body felt sturdy and still, my hands felt soft, my core felt strong, and my posture felt tall. As the two days progressed, those little voices in the back of my head got more quiet, and faded further into the background. I didn’t ignore the voices, but instead let my inner Ted Lasso take over: I proverbially patted them on the head, and I let my belief in the next shot be bigger and louder than the voices. My intention became a living breathing part of me, taking the reins of decision-making away from my self-preservation. It filled the nooks and crannies of my brain that lie in wait, ready to be filled with the all too familiar doubt, or fear, or excuses. My intention was like a warm crystalized fog that left no mental space for anything other than itself.

So, does this mean I executed every single shot the way I wanted to? Absolutely not, however, the bad shots were exceedingly easier to digest. It was the difference between slicing your drive and wanting to throw your driver onto the adjacent green and quit golf forever(hey, we all be feeling passionate from time to time), versus, a fleeting whisp of: “well that sucks, but on to the next”. In turn, the bad shot did not go on to poison the shots directly following suit. Because I fully committed to the shot, I have no regrets for lack of trying, and there was no room left for self-punishment and sabotage. I didn’t walk away from that bad shot getting stuck in the typical feedback loop of the “what’s” and “why’s” of a shot that didn’t make the cut. There was no pit of emptiness after the bad shot, or that feeling of a “missed opportunity” simply because I had filled that void with my intention before I even set up to the ball.

During play I didn’t look at the leaderboard a single time; I genuinely had no interest in how I was measuring up to the field, I just wanted to measure up to myself. But no one is perfect, so in those rare moments when I did feel myself veering from my intention, I tried to recenter myself by exercising gratitude: When I had a free moment, I looked up and reminded myself of how lucky I was to even have had the opportunity to play. When I set up to a drive, I exhaled, I believed, and I hit the ball. When I stood over a putt, I held the finish of that stroke until I heard the ball drop – full commitment. I never once felt silly, or out of control, or disappointed. I never felt threatened, or afraid, off-put, or deterred by my intention. I finished my final round more proud, exhilarated, and personally interconnected than I ever have in golf. This performance felt fully representative of the golfer and person I want to be all the time; betting on myself and reaping the social and emotional payouts with my fellow man. So, the results-driven person in me received the most fascinating and fulfilling results I could have ever hoped for, well beyond any baseline of expectations I could have set (and honestly didn’t). All by setting an intention. This isn’t a feeling I will have to chase because the process can be recreated – time, and time again. These results spoke for themselves, long before I finished this competition, and the results-driven person in me found a way to marry process and intention to create one fantastic and fully accessible result. I think I’ll be continuing to vet these results throughout the rest of the season, and into the next, and until who knows when.

Bandon Off-Course: A few thoughts and couple tales from the Bunker Bar

So, if you’re reading this now, you may have read my previous posts regaling my sappy experiences at the church of Golf at Bandon Dunes. What I deliberately left out of my previous posts are some curious moments that (although comical) seemed to deter from the genuine homage I wanted to pay to the courses. But as we all know, golf trips are never just about the golf. It’s the little moments between shots and rounds that bind these experiences together. So without further adieu, let’s get into some other juicy bits from the trip.

Just like any small fish in a large pond, being a woman in a variety of male-dominated fields can offer a unique lens on some time-honored experiences traditionally held by the opposite sex. My experiences in golf are no different, but I will say, that I am grateful that I picked up the game later in life when the archetypal chip on my shoulder had long smoothed over.

Like any person making their way into the world (often professionally speaking), I learned how little one is “offered a seat at the table” and if you want a “seat at the table”, you must simply take it. There are graceful and not so graceful ways to do this of course, and like all useful qualities, there was a steep learning curve for me. It’s a lifelong balancing act of room reading, self-authority, ethics, and personal boundaries. But I can confidently say that with the sage advice in Theodore Roosevelt's Foreign Policy (“speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far”) and years of practice, I have learned how to relish not only taking a seat at any table but doing so with grace and a deeper respect and understanding of the social intricacies that lie therein. Let's just say that a whole new world of doors open when you feel curious, confident, and rightfully included enough to hop on the tee sheet with anyone, regardless of gender or club social standing.

So, what does any of that have to do with golf? In my experience, a lot actually. I don’t consider myself to be overly sensitive, nor inversely calloused and closed off. There is no true living in indifference, so I guess that leaves me somewhere in the middle. Feeling my feelings, but filtering the input/output. I have learned that the healthiest social option for me (at the advice of my husband) is to first seek to understand, rather than seek to be understood. This is much easier said than done, but I will say that it has saved me and others at the proverbial “table” a fair amount of awkward exchanges. My social default in any interaction is to always provide others with the benefit of the doubt, perhaps to a fault at times. With that being said, unless I am otherwise being made to feel unsafe, it has become a favorite pastime to invert the would-be unwanted advances or comments of the opposite sex to my advantage. With lifelong experiences in sports, music, construction, and golf, one can imagine many times I've encountered such situations.

*smiles, sips drink, and scans the room, sets drink down*

Now, it’s no secret that Bandon is a sausage fest. Now, this was made mentioned to me ahead of time, but no joke I think I saw like 3 other golfing females the entire time we were there. Now, in no way does this bother me, and in no way is this story going to make a statement about gender neutrality in golf (we'll save that for another time). In fact on the contrary; if women want to go to Bandon, then they should get their asses to Bandon! It's a ridiculously good time! But back to the sausage fest - as you might have guessed, I am pretty indifferent to this particular dynamic. In my professional and personal experiences, it's pretty par for the course, and I'm merely stating this as a context reminder for the following story.

The first night we went to the bunker bar, I experienced one of the funniest albeit rare moments as a girl golfer. We got there somewhat early, grabbed some drinks and sat at the bar. Played some dice and eventually moved onto the pool table where we parked for a while until traffic in the room picked up. At some point, I went to use the restroom and when I re-entered the room (which at this point happened to be packed) I hear someone yell at the top of their lungs: “GIRL!”. I shit you not, it was like a record-scratch from a movie where the whole room just stops and looks. I scan the room and see 1 other female in a sea of dudes playing dice and she’s pointing right at me smiling. Without skipping a beat I yell: “GIRL!” and we high five, and I swear to God the entire room cheered. In merely 1 exchanged word a piece, my moment with this woman and the rest of the room was one of the best moments of comradery I've ever experienced in golf or otherwise. Talk about calling a spade a spade, this shit was hilarious and heartwarming.

Now onto a different kind of story:

I am never going to speak on anyone else’s behalf, so what I say herein is purely based on my own subjectivism. So based on my own experiences, I have seen a wide variety of social dynamics between men and women in golf, both on and off the course. Anyone could tell you that this sport continues to grow and change with time, and it has been fascinating to see this change happen in real-time. Golf is a culture all its own; riddled with traditions, rules, and decorum. It even has its own language and dress code. Having respect and understanding of this culture can take you far within this society. I feel like I have patiently approached learning these customs with grace and humility; what's more, I feel that I belong, and that's a pretty cool feeling. Even at Bandon (golf mecca), I’ve paid my “golf-society member dues” via my dedication to the game enough to feel like I have a right to be here. Being a woman in golf is not a rare thing, but every once in a while, believe it or not, I encounter someone who just hasn’t quite gotten on board with the idea that belong in the same places that they do. On our second night at Bandon, I encountered such a someone, and this someone missed the mark, big time.

(It’s important to note here, that I was not wearing anything out of the ordinary for Bandon, just normal golf clothes, and nothing that would otherwise imply I am here for no other reason than the other patrons.)

We got done with dinner and decided we were going to go down to the Bunker Bar for some pool and drinks. For those who don’t know, the Bunker Bar is located down a flight of stairs, past the locker rooms, and at the end of the long hallway. It's a cozy, windowless, cigar-smoke-filled fun fest nestled in a dark downstairs corner of the facility. It's just my kind of place. Now, at the top of the flight of stairs that leads down to the Bunker Bar, there is a set of bathrooms. On this night, Chris needed to stop at the bathroom before we went down, so I waited for him outside for him and watched as groups made their way past me, and head downstairs to the bar. As I am waiting, a group of about 5 men enter from an adjacent door leading from the outside and start making their way past me to the stairs. I make it a point to greet people and make eye contact where I can, which would be perfectly normal in this setting. Each nods and says “hello” as they pass me and head down the stairs, I politely return a courteous: “hi there”. The last gentleman makes his way about halfway down the stairs right as Chris is exiting the bathroom, just in time for us both to hear this guy’s voice echoing up the stairwell: “well THAT was subtle! hahahah”. (Yes, they were implying what you are thinking...) I look at Chris with a massive shit-eating grin, spin toward the stairs and start marching down the stairs right past this whole group of rioters and announce:

“Alright, boys it’s time to go get us a BIG glass of subtlety!".

Subtle Guy: "Wait what? What's going on?"

Katie: "Ya didn't you know it's subtlety night and You’re buying!”.

Four of the guys immediately start laughing and giving the one guy a world of shit for what he said while Subtle Guy goes: “Well it is a MENS club!”. (*slow clap*) Well sir, if that's true, then you just put the nail in the coffin by insinuating I was a hooker, so pay up :)

Everyone laughing their asses off, we entered the bar, and within two shakes of a lambs tail, Chris and I each had an apology drink in front of us courtesy of foot-in-mouth Sublety guy.

Now look, I never game him guff, we laughed it off. Watching this dude crumble because I had the fortitude to call it out was *chefs kiss* priceless, and I doubt he’ll make the same mistake again(or who knows, maybe he will).

These were just two of the many other stories I have, but these two were my favorite stand-out moments. Every night we went to the Bunker Bar or any of the fantastic other bars and restaurants, we met incredible people and chatted with the staff. The folks that work here are so much fun and highly dedicated. They learn your drink, they learn your name, and are never short on personability and professionalism. Hats off to them; they are the glue that made our seamlessly enjoyable experience possible. And for any other women that might hesitate to join in on the fun at Bandon, just remember that a world of fascinating experiences just like these await you. Cheers bitches.

Sit on Every Bench at Bandon Dunes (Day 4 - Pacific Dunes)

It's been a minute, but I haven’t forgotten about you all!

On our last day at Bandon Dunes, we were rewarded with 60 degrees and clear sunny skies for one of the most beautiful courses I have ever laid eyes on. Pacific Dunes is saturated in true blue, rich teal, and vibrant yellow. The gorse here is… loud. Although we had seen it two days prior fading into the surroundings at Bandon Dunes, here, it unapologetically charged forth into the visual surroundings. It pierces the landscape, framing the fairways and greens, both bright and distinguished against kelly green and primary blue. The course is positioned cliffside against the beach, and there is no better security than the intimidating thorns on this plant, keeping golfers on the path by the awareness of their presence alone.

Speaking of awareness, it was somewhere at the turn of this course when I looked down and realized that the outfit I had picked for this day was deep blue and teal, comically matching my surroundings. (Okay full disclosure, I laughed my ass off with my caddie when I realized I was straight up wearing gorse-yellow underwear to match - I swear to God I did not plan this). The wind howled, the sun shone, and for the first time on our trip, the sky was so clear that the ocean and sky were truly distinguishable. Architecturally it is spellbinding here; this is the church of golf and there is a place for everything, and everything is in its place. We battled the wind with as much club as we could muster, and this may well have been the first and last time I laugh at the perfect tee shot making a full u-turn, and absolutely blasting it all of 50 yards… simply put, it just didn’t matter. We had our drinks, we had our laughs, we had spectacular weather, we had good shots and bad shots, and we soaked it in. 10/10 would play again, and again. And again.

We headed out for dinner on our last night and took the walking path that winds through the property. As we made our way up to the lodge I remembered, we have 1 last bench to visit. We make our way up the trail leading to the top of that hill overlooking the Lodge, and upon reaching the top, we both just stood there. Gobsmacked is a word that comes to mind. I had made it a point to sit on every single bench on every single course we played, and here we were, sitting down on our very last bench. Even now, I am still at a loss for words for how this moment felt, so instead I’ll leave you with one last photo...

Alright, I need a second to go off-course here for a paragraph (PUN INTENDED). I know, I know, I said I was at a LOSS for words, but this is a blog which means we BOTH signed up for words, so here we go)

It is so easy to ramble on and on, gushing about the significance of this place, but since I’m itching to create an adequate analogy – let’s see if I can actually sum it up here: If you were to take the average golfer, and discuss the nature of picking up this masochistic past time and the dollar amount they spend on average to participate, you could write a dissertation on the irony therein. The longer I play this game, the more I feel a shift in the connection between both myself and the game, in tandem with a growing distance between myself and those around me who do not play. There – I said it. In no way is that meant to be a slight to the non-golfer; if anything, it’s a snub to the one spending copious amounts of time, money, energy, and countless brain cells on this capricious past-time. If baseball gets into your blood, then golf gets in your brain. Golf looms in the back corners of your mind whispering words of encouragement like that high school friend that your parents were convinced was a “bad influence” on you. And just like that high school friend – I’ll have to admit, one has to be very mindful of their expectations about how much they get out of what they put into this game, or it can quickly turn into a highly toxic relationship. That being said, as a self-proclaimed emotionally intelligent individual, it is my humble opinion that Bandon Dunes is like the ‘love-bomb’ of golf, lavishing its patrons with an abundance of gifts and leaving them with the: “See! It WAS all worth it!” mentality. I mean just look at that photo, like, what the hell Bandon!? Where even are we right now?! When someone asks why I do it, I think I'll just show them this photo from now on; after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

(Alright back to the fairway)

I feel like most vacations end with a sigh of relief and longing for my own bed and the comfort of my daily routines, but this one hit differently. Simply put, I was not ready to leave, I couldn’t believe the trip was ending. Chris and I had a lot of time to talk about this trip before we finally arrived, a year in fact. And in that time, it was gently ingrained in me that this trip was going to be highly influential in my deciding just how much I loved the game of golf. At dinner that night he asked me: “So, what do you think?” I told him: “I don’t really think like golf, I think I’m in love with golf” (*love bomb dropped*). From the moment you arrive on campus, Bandon holds your senses hostage. It commands your attention at every turn, but what you receive in return is personalized symphony sights, sounds, and feelings, all curated to your own specific rhythm. All you have to do is give yourself over to 'the walk'. There truly is no detail left unturned here, and the designers have exercised every opportunity to invite you into their immersive experience. There are little moments everywhere, from the plaques on benches, to the labyrinth walking paths, and even the bunker bar. It is impossible not to feel like you are the guest of honor at this special club and they have just let you in on all of its best-kept secrets. This is where golf addicts are born, and veterans come to feed their habits. That being said, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away for long, my new goal is to make as much money as possible so I can get back here as soon as humanly possible.

It has been a pleasure writing about this place, to say the least. I am currently writing my "off-course" post with tales from the Bunker Bar so stay tuned...