Survival
Every summer I basically hang on and try to survive, physically, until Eli 19.0 goes back to school.
I'm having fun. We always have fun. But trying to match the activity of an elite athlete at 19.0 with my 59.4 body is always a balancing act, and by balancing, I mean falling off a cliff.
Since this is our last week (he goes back on Monday), we've played golf every day this week but one. We always walk, of course, and it's surprisingly hot up here, and I'm exhausted. And we're playing 18 tomorrow and Saturday, and maybe Monday at the U-Michigan course after he unpacks.
The balancing act involves my various injuries that accumulate over the summer, like my calf and wrist. The wrist, in particular, is just hanging on at this point. I had to stop playing FIFA 20 on the PS4 (which I'd really been enjoying) because it was killing my wrist. If I don't play FIFA, I can play golf every day and ice my wrist and make it through (with a liberal amount of Advil).
After Monday, though, I'm taking at least 4-5 days off to let my wrist heal.
He still can't beat me on the practice putting green, though. Worth it.
Of course, I can't putt worth a damn on the course. If I could actually putt during a round, I'd be shooting in the 70s consistently now. Didn't see that coming.
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