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Even after 20 inches of northeastern weather, I managed to drag myself to the range with a seven-iron and eight in hand. Before I recap the session, allow me to express my developing boredom with range visits.  

I realize the time spent practicing is extremely relevant to the hopeful success translated on the golf course, but eventually we all want to see our hard work come to fruition. For the love of the golf gods, give me 18 holes already. Tucked neatly into a six-by-six heated net region for the last few months, I'm beginning to experience golf's version of cabin fever.

Nevertheless, my latest visit had some ups and downs. The most notable up: my discovery that I now possess the ability to draw the ball—sort of.  

After watching a short video on how to go about doing so, and after hitting a lull with the club anyway, I decided to give it a shot with my eight-iron.

Literally, on my first attempt, I shifted my right hip back a bit, made contact, and watched as my ball traveled right to left. I can honestly say it was magical. As quickly as my practice was hitting a rough patch, it was uplifted into a state of euphoria.

From that point, until I moved to the seven-iron, I was imagining a line just right of my target and shaping my shot right on course. It was truly awesome!

(One question I have, though: Do professionals ever attempt to hit a straight shot? Or do they consistently rely on fades and draws? I began thinking about this after I hit about 10 draws. Once my mechanical alignment was out of sorts, I thought, "Am I screwing up my stance to the point where I won't be able to hit a straight ball?" Any insight here would be appreciated.)

But as quickly as my draw appeared, it disappeared. And my frustration level resurfaced. So much so that I decided, at least for now, that I wasn't ready to devote my entire time to right-to-left shots. So I moved on to my seven-iron.

The seven-iron began with a handful of easy, successful shots. Then not so many.

Up until my transition to the seven, my session unfolded as such: good start with the eight (up), sudden lull with the eight (down), newfound draw shot (up), lost draw shot (down), few good shots with the seven (up), many bad shots with the seven (down), more bad shots with the seven (further down), and then the cabin fever kicked in full throttle (rock bottom).

I found my composure completely rattled. Everything within me that had been training to be capable of handling these moments malfunctioned: tension in my body arose, mental distractions ensued, and, worst of all, I had fits where I simply one handed a few balls five to 10 yards in front of me. I was breaking down—hard.

But then I stepped outside myself and saw a version months younger. This impression actually helped me understand how far I'd come. Months ago I wouldn't have been able to realize the missteps I was taking. This time, I recognized and made the necessary adjustments to ensure the final 10 to 15 balls left would be pure and golf-like.

And they were.

I regrouped my mental and physical states and, nice and easily, connected with the last few shots remaining. And, as always, you know what they say: "It's that one shot that brings you back for more."  

This time, however, it was about five to 10.

Hours of practice: 352

Oh how I long for a west coast or even southern life style; at least for golfing purposes anyway.  Some say constant rain can damper a mood.  I say constant snow can hinder a golf game. 

If you live where I do, which is along the eastern seaboard, then you're experiencing another dismal day of snow.  Only this time, it's a mixture of snow and rain, equaling slop.  I don't have to tell you that these aren't exactly the best golfing conditions, but I do have to tell you how my state of mind is handling it.

My objective this off-season has been to hit the range at least once a week (I know, I know, I didn't adhere to this philosophy early on, but have been since the turn of the year).  To maximize my free time, I've been designating Saturday mornings for my sessions.

Now, with the way this storm is being forecasted, this Saturday, February 27th, isn't looking promising.  I'm sure one day without the golf won't hurt, but what's more troubling, overall, is the reality I'm faced with: living in unfavorable year-round golfing conditions.

If it were below freezing, I'd suck it up and embrace the elements.  But with the amount of snow (or slop) we're expecting, there's a high probability the range will be closed.  Man, does this stink.

What's worse, if at all possible, is that I'll have to watch the pros compete in the Waste Management Phoenix Open in sunny warm surroundings.  Although I absorb the talents of the best each time I have the opportunity to, at the same time, I crave being outdoors in pristine golfing circumstances.  I'm not jealous of their life (alright, maybe a little), but I am jealous of the weather they play in.   

What does this all mean for The Golf Blog?

I'll of course have to work harder during the next session to shake off any accumulating rust, but mentally, it feels as though I'm stepping backwards in my overall pursuit.  

I currently stand at 348 hours of practice, but in my mind, this number feels like it should drop to 347.  And because of this, next session is a guaranteed five hours worth of work!  And come when the weather favors it, for $25, I'm spending all day Saturday at the range, outdoors! 

Hours of practice: 348 (347 in my mind)

I always knew the hardest aspect of this quest towards golf perfection would be how I articulated my thoughts here. To continually expand upon my experiences—a round of eighteen, a few hours on the range, or a reading on what's mentally needed to succeed in golf—and connect with my readers posed the greatest obstacle.

So as I sit here now, I feel that our relationship, in order to grow later on, must pause for a second.

I understand that my goal of golf perfection is somewhat far fetched. I say "somewhat" because I truly believe my capabilities allow me to reach a level only achieved through hard work and focused determination. I say "far fetched" because, by nature, I'm a realist. I realize the chances of playing alongside professional golfers are slim to none.

All of that said, know this: I will not give up. 

This admission/commitment is twofold. 

For one, whether you decide to remain a part of this ride or not, I ask that you keep in mind how much this journey means to me.  I've always believed that if you set your mind to something you will accomplish it and each moment I stand over a golf ball, it's this belief that fuels my subconscious thinking.  This endeavor is my chance to practice what I preach, so to speak.

But secondly, and definitely more importantly, it's my opportunity to make a difference. Through leading by example, I hope to inspire. Not just in golf, but for any goal or dream. Whether it's self-satisfaction or monetary gain, hard work equals great reward. There are no shorts cuts.

Furthermore, golf is much more than simply working on a craft or a game. The depths of golf's meaning become woven in your existence each time you seek its mastery, and understanding that a mastery of it may never come actually makes the road more enjoyable.

A quest by definition is a search or pursuit made in order to find or obtain something.What something relates to is unclear. Rather, it's customized to fit each individual differently. For me, it's the feeling of inner peace.

Life brings great challenges and playing golf doesn't solve them or enable us to hurdle our obstacles any easier. What it does, though, is create an outlet to find meaning in our surroundings.

The age old question has always been, "What's the meaning of life?" Although I'm not saying that golf is the meaning or that it will help you answer the question, I am implying it's a symbol of what's necessary to find those answers: in order to hit a good golf shot, you must find calmness within yourself; in order to live a good life, you must find peace. You may or may not ascribe to this philosophy, but the parallels do exist. I feel it's just a matter of experiencing them.

I promise that this forum will not become a philosophic platform about the meaning of life. I will remain concentrated on the task at hand; that is, to perfect my golf game.

It's just that, for only a moment, this explanation felt appropriate.  

And perhaps it's all a part of the process.

Hour of practice: 348  

Because my new golfing philosophy is “practice makes perfect,” I’m finding it difficult to move beyond a particular club until I’m hitting it well.  Over the course of my last two practice sessions, the first in which I was scheduled to work on my three and four irons, I got stuck hitting the four a lot longer than I'd expected.

I’ve always had difficulty hitting these two irons, but being committed to you, my reader, encourages me to consider anything below par as unacceptable. 

I wasn’t exactly “duffing it” (a term used to describe a shot that basically bounces its way twenty to thirty yards), but I wasn’t hitting it solidly either.  I was tight and having a hard time finding my physical comfort zone.  There were scattered shots when I did feel loose, but couldn't seem to find a rhythm.  

On this note, I had a thought: They say when investing your money in stocks, you should take notes of your emotional state while buying and selling.  That way you avoid forgetting the negative associations and recall the positive ones.  

I feel the same methodology applies towards golf.

Next time you hit the range for practice, bring along a note pad to scribble down what works, and for that matter, what doesn’t 

Write down body positions when hitting a particular club.  Jot down where in your stance you felt the most comfortable striking your 7-iron as opposed to your 4-iron.  Personally, I began feeling the 4-iron offered the best results when my ball was about two inches behind my front toe. (My 7-iron is best right smack dab in the middle.) 

Another mental note I realized: When focusing on hitting a good shot, focus on what you’re doing to focus.  I know that sounds redundant, but basically understand what you’re attempting to accomplish.  That way, when you accomplish it, you can refer to it when you seem to be losing focus on the course.  

I had this epiphany while struggling with my 3-iron.  Again, the 3-iron has always been my hardest to strike and this season has been no different.  Except now I was at least hitting it with some regularity, just not quite where I wanted.  So I stepped back and regained my physical and mental composure. 

I stood behind the ball, got my intended destination in view, visualized how I wanted the shot to look, took my position, allowed my body to get comfortable while taking notes of what was feeling good (ball one inch off my front toe, weight on my front leg, knees bent, back straight), and then I let it all dissipate as I prepared to hit my shot.

You see, eventually you must let all the preparation go.  At some point, your body must memorize what’s needed to be successful.  I’m sure there are plenty of golfers who remind themselves of what's needed each time they stand over their ball, but feeling comfortable when it matters comes from hours of practice. 

For me, this one moment of determined concentration turned out to be successful, but of course it won’t be enough.  I’ll need hours more of the same focus on just my 3-iron alone before I’ll gain perfection on the course. 

But for now, hitting a club until it feels comfortable in my hand feels like the right thing to do.  Because truthfully, anything less wouldn’t feel comfortable in my mind.    

For next time, it’s on to the driver.

Hours of practice: 345

It was back to the range to continue my new approach to practice: three clubs at a time.  For this session I chose the 5, 6 and 7 irons.  Now I may have declared this before, but I really felt as though I made an enormous technical breakthrough on my previous visit.  

Who knows.  I could mentally fall apart next time and be back to the drawing board trying to figure out a solution.  But last time I concluded that a stiff backswing - stiff but fluid; more controlled than anything - and a concerted effort to getting my top hand over at impact really helped in ensuring that my flight was consistent and controllable.  

So with this thinking in mind, I attacked the three aforementioned irons with high expectations, yet humble skepticism.  

I am happy to report that as a whole, especially mechanically speaking, I did well.  Sure there were some duffs, but I never, and I repeat never, let that enter into my consciousness.  I simply chalked it up to lethargy and moved on to the next shot with focused determination. (It usually paid off.)

This entry is not all about success, however.

The biggest challenge I faced, and this may just be because of early season fatigue, was my inability to tackle the entire jumbo bucket I purchased with the same level of energy I had in the beginning as in the end.  There were moments when I looked back at my bucket in amazement of how many balls were still left to strike.  I was quickly getting tired; both physically AND mentally.  

As my ball reached its apex - with the Manhattan skyline in the background - thoughts of yesteryear began entering my daydreams.  I was recalling teenage times spent on the city's streets, forgetting all about my mechanics, which, by the way, were melting away.  Like the direction of this blog entry, my mind was detoured off course.  

Suddenly my top hand was coming through, but I couldn't tell you if it was ending where I wanted it to be.  Or if my back leg was bending more than it should.  Or if my head was down on the ball upon impact.   

(As I write it now, I'm beginning to think differently, though.  Maybe my body was starting to become accustomed to the necessary movements needed to hit a decent golf shot?)

Perhaps I can perceive my session this way.  But at this stage of the season, and of my quest towards perfection, it's simply unacceptable to be mentally drifting during any practice session or round.  

Now I KNOW that I've said this before, but to reiterate: Golf requires concentration 100% of the time.  It's why I respect the game so tremendously.  No matter what you're doing, if you take your game seriously, then you must stand over your ball with a clear mind, knowing exactly what you're intending to do.  If you don't, then your execution suffers.

And although my execution didn't suffer too significantly this time, it's a guarantee it will during a pivotal shot somewhere on the course.  

Overall, and not to be too hard on myself because honestly, I'm not a pro, the practice felt good.  I approach golf the way I perceive life: Each time out, if you can learn something you didn't know beforehand and apply it the next time, you'll be better off.

My lesson for next time is to train myself to be in the moment with each shot.  If I find my mind drifting somewhere other than on my shot at hand, I'll have to step back and reevaluate why.  

If I can't find the answer, then I'll just have to wait until it surfaces before I stand over my ball; no matter how many are left in the bucket.

Hours of practice: 340