This column originally ran July 28, 2016
It happened. After two years of resisting my husband’s pleas, I gave in: I started golfing with him.
The things we do for love.
Mark was so delighted by my lukewarm enthusiasm he took me right out to the sporting goods store to buy me a set of clubs. The golf department was enormous. It offered multiple brands of clubs in various lengths, face angles and levels of shaft stiffness, employing space-age materials designed to optimize everything from the distance and accuracy of your drive to the loft of your shot and spin on the ball. Taking in all the smoky graphite and shiny steel around me, I admit I started to get excited about my potential as a golfer. The options seemed endless.
They weren’t.Read More