From Lost to Found in Golf: Can You Really Improve at Golf?

I'm reading, or to be more accurate, listening to a book called, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed. I'm not quite sure about the book, but I'm going to stick with it to see if I even like listening to books. As an aside, I find it surprising that it's quite a bit easier for me to get lost in the droning sound of the narrator's voice and to lose my place than I've ever found it to be while reading. But, that's an issue for another day.

It's the story of a woman whose life fell apart. First, her mother was stricken and quickly died of lung cancer and then her marriage came apart. Finally, she found herself using men and even heroin to fill the void where her heart had been. I can relate to her story, but not her reaction to the death of her mother. All that proves is that grieving is like fingerprints; everyone is different.

In the aftermath to her trials, she decides to hike the Pacific Crest trail from just north of Mojave, California to the Oregon / Washington border...alone. Of course, I've read books like this before and especially recall Peter Jenkin's 1983 book, Walk Across America. What these kinds of books have in common is the espousal of a belief that somehow a demanding enough mission will lead to a new kind of self-understanding. 

It is an unusual kind of faith that would lead someone to believe this would be true. But, perhaps they're right. I've just started Wild so I don't know the details of how it all turns out, but the book is said to be quite uplifting, if in a rather unconventional way.

This all plugs into golf, believe it or not. A while back I blogged about a documentary called, The Back Nine. You've probably heard of it. It's about a guy who, at the age of 40, decided he was going to do everything he possibly could to become the best player possible, with the wildly optimistic idea of elevating his game to the professional level. Lotsa luck. Beyond his audacity, I found his reliance on high tech methodologies off-putting. It struck me that he'd abandoned the elegance of Hoganesque self-reliance in his quest. It was as if, in a way, he was linking his success or failure to the work of others rather than his own.

The question for me is how does a 51 year old golfer with a 10.6 handicap create his own version of the kind of mission-spirit espoused by these books? That, truly, is the question. Strayed and Jenkins were not insane, merely extreme. Fitzgerald (the 40 something subject of The Back Nine) was something of a poser compared to Jenkins and Strayer, so consider his place in this essay done. 

How do I adopt an extreme but not insane approach to becoming a better player?

How much better, you ask?

I have no idea. I play to an honest 10.6 with very little practice and not very much play. I have no idea how good I could get because I've never (until recently) been able to devote the money (and time; just money in different clothes) to getting lots better. Now, I am over 50 and asking hard questions like, how much longer will I have any chance of getting any better before the inevitable decline of age takes hold?

The good news is that I am in OK shape and have good genes. My father played golf until his was over 90 and never lost his ability to compress the ball. When he was in his mid-80s people we played with usually assumed his was fifteen years younger. 

Even knowing this, I feel like time's a wasting and a sense of urgency has set in. I resolved this year to play more, and I have. Now, my goal is to do something extreme, but not insane. I am looking for a mission that will allow me to ask and find answers to the limits of my game.