Of the 5 hours I tried to sleep last night (11:00-4:00), I probably only slept somewhere between 1 and 2 hours.
That means I am sleepy.
I'll right up a more detailed report tomorrow, with some pictures and stuff, but here are a couple of highlights...
I made my first eagle ever on the 66th hole of the day.
I shot better than bogey golf, which was my goal.
I guess that is a couple of highlights as promised above. I'll give more details on both of those, as well as some other fun parts of the day in a tomorrow's post.
Good Night.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Break Time
Between sporting events in the 24 hour soreness marathon.
Game ended in a 1 to 1 tie. We only had 2 subs, so I didn't get to rest much.
Time for a few hours of sleep and then off to the course.
The schedule has us teeing off at 6:00 a.m. and finishing around 7:30 p.m.
Looks like the weather should be great for it. Hopefully my body will co-operate.
Game ended in a 1 to 1 tie. We only had 2 subs, so I didn't get to rest much.
Time for a few hours of sleep and then off to the course.
The schedule has us teeing off at 6:00 a.m. and finishing around 7:30 p.m.
Looks like the weather should be great for it. Hopefully my body will co-operate.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Universe Wants Me Sore
I went running again today. I say again, cause I went for a very short run on Tuesday.
Just before running, I realized how stupid the thought sounded to me as I noticed that my entire goal in running today was to get my legs sore.
You see, summer soccer starts this Sunday. I generally don't get in shape before it starts, and by week 3 am in good shape. Actually, I just feel extremely sore the Monday after the first game.
But, I can't afford that this year, because on Monday, I'm involved in a golf marathon, golfing 100 holes to raise money for an orphanage in Kenya. I likely couldn't golf 5 and a half rounds of golf in one day if my legs were the most sore they would be all year, so I figured I'd run a couple of times to ease that pain.
Even worse, is that typically 1 soccer game every 2 years is moved from 6:30 until 8:00 at a lighted field. Randomly enough, that got scheduled for this week. So from 8:00 Sunday Night through the same time on Monday Night, I'm expected to play a soccer game, sleep 5 hoursish, then golf 100 holes. That will likely take up all of the 24 hours once the driving time is included between the field, home, and course.
I guess I'm just supposed to be sore for a while.
Tuesday will likely find me in a hot tub somewhere.
Just before running, I realized how stupid the thought sounded to me as I noticed that my entire goal in running today was to get my legs sore.
You see, summer soccer starts this Sunday. I generally don't get in shape before it starts, and by week 3 am in good shape. Actually, I just feel extremely sore the Monday after the first game.
But, I can't afford that this year, because on Monday, I'm involved in a golf marathon, golfing 100 holes to raise money for an orphanage in Kenya. I likely couldn't golf 5 and a half rounds of golf in one day if my legs were the most sore they would be all year, so I figured I'd run a couple of times to ease that pain.
Even worse, is that typically 1 soccer game every 2 years is moved from 6:30 until 8:00 at a lighted field. Randomly enough, that got scheduled for this week. So from 8:00 Sunday Night through the same time on Monday Night, I'm expected to play a soccer game, sleep 5 hoursish, then golf 100 holes. That will likely take up all of the 24 hours once the driving time is included between the field, home, and course.
I guess I'm just supposed to be sore for a while.
Tuesday will likely find me in a hot tub somewhere.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
FOX Wins
Fox wins because they didn't broadcast the Presidential Press Conference live on their main network station. Instead, they played their normal shows and offered it on their cable networks.
Seeing as how every other network was playing it live, every news broadcast later this evening would cover it, as well as every news website, I was glad someone finally decided to allow me something else to watch.
I would likely have watched "Lie To Me" on Fox anyway if picking between the normal shows of each station, but would have watched anything a network offered that was different than the press conference.
I simply will find out everything important he said in a much quicker way by other means and never feel the need to watch these things live.
Thanks Fox.
Seeing as how every other network was playing it live, every news broadcast later this evening would cover it, as well as every news website, I was glad someone finally decided to allow me something else to watch.
I would likely have watched "Lie To Me" on Fox anyway if picking between the normal shows of each station, but would have watched anything a network offered that was different than the press conference.
I simply will find out everything important he said in a much quicker way by other means and never feel the need to watch these things live.
Thanks Fox.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Braiden and Habib - Part 2
Time to continue the story. If you didn't read part 1, you can find it here: Once Upon a Time
“Enhaviv, it’s great to see you,” said Coach Singleton as he outstretched his hand.
“You as well Mr. Singleton” I responded and consciously thought about gripping his hand with the proper firmness to seem confident.
“Please, don’t call me Mr. Singleton, call me Coach.” He corrected me with a smile.
Mr. Singleton had long been a member at Willowing Hills Golf Club where I work as a golf teaching assistant and for the last three years had coached the varsity boys golf team at Saint Peter of the Cross High School. They had developed quite a reputation in the state for such a small private school, partly because they had golf teams starting in the late elementary years.
“So, you’re interested in helping out with the program…” Mr. Singleton began, ushering us straight to business.
“Yeah, I heard there is an opening for the junior high golf coach and was hoping I would be a good fit to fill that role.” I began, hoping this would start a conversation. Instead, I looked up to find Mr. Singleton staring back at me with his brow slightly creased, expecting me to continue.
“I have considerable experience teaching golf to junior high aged youth, have coached many students through individual Junior Golf tournaments and have great access to teaching tools and locations through the club.
“It isn’t your experience that I question, I’ve seen you at the range, you are a great teacher.” He said leaning in.
His presence was ominous, being six foot five, even when he leaned forward my eyes met his hardened chin by nature, and the slight tilt upwards of my neck helped me to realize the stature difference we brought into the room.
“It’s well, you realize this is a private school right? I mean, this is a Catholic private school.”
He knew full well that I understood what kind of school this was. He hadn’t said this to inform me, but to question if I belong.
“I imagine there aren’t many students with the name Enhaviv here are there?” I mumbled hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m here because I already have good relationships with many of the students that attend this school, feel comfortable coaching them, and would love to be involved in the improvement of their golf games. I believe I can do this without my being Middle Eastern causing a problem.”
“I don’t think that you will cause the problem. Likely not even the students, they seem more comfortable with diversity than anyone else I know. But, the parents. I don’t know what the parents will think.”
We continued our conversation for another twenty minutes or so, discussing the expectations of the position, the time commitments, the travel schedule, and the size of the squad. But as we both left, we knew that the only inhibiting factor may be that I look different than the rest of the people here, and that I won’t be found at any of their Sunday Morning Mass celebrations.
I opened the door and walked down the empty school hallway, hearing my dress shoes click with each step, and squeak on every fifth step or so, I realized how alone I was.
“Habib?” came echoing down the corridor
“Mr. Stradquist, how is school today?” I said to Braiden. At the club we don’t use first names to the members, until they ask us to. I felt smaller now having to call an eleven year old Mr.
“It’s fine, but I’d rather be on the range with you.”
He had continued his lessons for the last week and a half and seemed more comfortable with the game of golf now.
“I believe our next lesson is Thursday right?” I asked, making small talk.
“Yeah, do you think we can hit the driver then?” He asked eagerly.
“I’ll do you one better. If you hit the 7-iron well, we will both hit the driver, and we will play a couple of holes.”
I knew this would entice him as I had not allowed him to do anything but hit the 7-iron and putt so far.
“I can’t wait.” He shouted as he ran towards the other end of the hallway “See you t-h—e---r----e.”
“Enhaviv, it’s great to see you,” said Coach Singleton as he outstretched his hand.
“You as well Mr. Singleton” I responded and consciously thought about gripping his hand with the proper firmness to seem confident.
“Please, don’t call me Mr. Singleton, call me Coach.” He corrected me with a smile.
Mr. Singleton had long been a member at Willowing Hills Golf Club where I work as a golf teaching assistant and for the last three years had coached the varsity boys golf team at Saint Peter of the Cross High School. They had developed quite a reputation in the state for such a small private school, partly because they had golf teams starting in the late elementary years.
“So, you’re interested in helping out with the program…” Mr. Singleton began, ushering us straight to business.
“Yeah, I heard there is an opening for the junior high golf coach and was hoping I would be a good fit to fill that role.” I began, hoping this would start a conversation. Instead, I looked up to find Mr. Singleton staring back at me with his brow slightly creased, expecting me to continue.
“I have considerable experience teaching golf to junior high aged youth, have coached many students through individual Junior Golf tournaments and have great access to teaching tools and locations through the club.
“It isn’t your experience that I question, I’ve seen you at the range, you are a great teacher.” He said leaning in.
His presence was ominous, being six foot five, even when he leaned forward my eyes met his hardened chin by nature, and the slight tilt upwards of my neck helped me to realize the stature difference we brought into the room.
“It’s well, you realize this is a private school right? I mean, this is a Catholic private school.”
He knew full well that I understood what kind of school this was. He hadn’t said this to inform me, but to question if I belong.
“I imagine there aren’t many students with the name Enhaviv here are there?” I mumbled hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m here because I already have good relationships with many of the students that attend this school, feel comfortable coaching them, and would love to be involved in the improvement of their golf games. I believe I can do this without my being Middle Eastern causing a problem.”
“I don’t think that you will cause the problem. Likely not even the students, they seem more comfortable with diversity than anyone else I know. But, the parents. I don’t know what the parents will think.”
We continued our conversation for another twenty minutes or so, discussing the expectations of the position, the time commitments, the travel schedule, and the size of the squad. But as we both left, we knew that the only inhibiting factor may be that I look different than the rest of the people here, and that I won’t be found at any of their Sunday Morning Mass celebrations.
I opened the door and walked down the empty school hallway, hearing my dress shoes click with each step, and squeak on every fifth step or so, I realized how alone I was.
“Habib?” came echoing down the corridor
“Mr. Stradquist, how is school today?” I said to Braiden. At the club we don’t use first names to the members, until they ask us to. I felt smaller now having to call an eleven year old Mr.
“It’s fine, but I’d rather be on the range with you.”
He had continued his lessons for the last week and a half and seemed more comfortable with the game of golf now.
“I believe our next lesson is Thursday right?” I asked, making small talk.
“Yeah, do you think we can hit the driver then?” He asked eagerly.
“I’ll do you one better. If you hit the 7-iron well, we will both hit the driver, and we will play a couple of holes.”
I knew this would entice him as I had not allowed him to do anything but hit the 7-iron and putt so far.
“I can’t wait.” He shouted as he ran towards the other end of the hallway “See you t-h—e---r----e.”
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