When fun becomes...work

I had my last golf lesson last night.

At least, my last scheduled golf lesson. My instructor (for obvious reasons) wants me to continue with them through the winter. But so does Mike.

They are using the argument I first heard when year-round elementary school became the fad. That I'll forget everything I've learned, or I'll become stiff, or I"ll pick up bad habits, and I'll be starting from scratch in the spring.

And I'm not disagreeing with that point.

But isn't there a reason kids need the summer break? Even if not for three whole months, they need some sort of separation from school?

I feel like that. Right now. Like I need a separation from golf. It's becoming way too much like work.

It's like when I took piano lessons, and I always had hanging over my head that I needed to practice after dinner. (And not just because the teacher told me I needed to practice twice as much because my brother, Terry, was such a natural and I so clearly was not. Not that I'm still bitter about that.)

The weekend comes now and I think, "I should go to the driving range." But I really, really don't want to go to the driving range.

When we went to Kingsmill, I had a great time golfing Saturday morning. But to do it all again on Sunday? Just too much. I can't concentrate on something that long.

Now, don't get me wrong! I'm not giving up golf completely! Pink golf gloves would still be an entirely appropriate Christmas gift! (Although, I am over my fascination with pink golf balls. They really are just too hard to see in the grass. Sigh.)

I'm just saying I need a few weeks break. I need to want to go to the lesson. I need to want to go to the driving range.

I know last night wasn't the end of my lessons. Just the end of my lessons right now. Okay?