The thought wasn't anything specific per se, but rather a philosophical approach to focused play, or lack thereof. While having the thought continuously popping into my mind, I even followed up the recognition of it by thinking that if I could turn this last corner, truly successful golf might be right around the bend.

Enough with the anticipation, I know. My thought, or thoughts, was always on the next shot. For instance, I would hit the green in regulation and be thinking about two-putting for par. Or I'd fail to get to the green in three on a par 4 and find myself thinking about getting up-and-down for bogey. This mindset even went so far as thinking of going par, par on the last two holes for a 42 on the back. (I went bogey, bogey.)

Now believe me, I realize the absurdity of this thought process. Each time a moment described above entered my mind, I'd do my best to shoo it away. But then instead of concentrating on the shot at hand, I was focusing on focusing. I knew this thinking had to go, however at the same time understood the opportunity for improvement.

Fast forward a week later and my whole approach was on executing the shot before me. It's so clich , and I've probably stated it before, but I was adamant on not worrying about the previous shot or the upcoming. If any thoughts infiltrated my concentration, I refused to welcome them.

Although I can't say I accomplished this on every shot (there was a two hole span where I allowed another golfer to get in my head), I can say that because of more tunneled thinking, my execution was near flawless, and my score a personal best.

That's right. One of my continuous goals is to better my score (whose isn't?). With this mark always in sight, I took to the course this weekend for two rounds of golf. The first had glimmers of potential, but entering the second I had a feeling something more was brewing. I knew a more concerted effort to staying present was in me. This time, I literally took one shot at a time and shoved down any desire to count my score, consider possibilities, or think about how the round was unfolding.

Believe me, the urge to peak at the card was overwhelming at times. Especially after going par, par, bogey, par, par, it was killing me. But each time I ignored the callings and saw my thoughts merely drift by as the next shot lay before me. Afterwards I was extremely pleased with my score, an 85 - one stroke better than my previous best, but great golf requires looking back in order to excel further.

There were back-to-back three-putts after getting on in regulation; a topped tee shot on 18 that led to a double bogey; a missed three foot putt for birdie after sticking an 8-Iron pin high; and the ultimate lesson for the round: a seven on a par 3 after letting an unethical golfer get in my head. (I'd say more but I prefer to give this golfer the benefit of the doubt.)

Overall, learning from my always-looking-ahead thought process was more gratifying than the 85. Don't mistake me, I'm thrilled about the personal best. But my goal was to overcome a mental obstacle on my path to great golf. And I feel I did that with enormous efficacy.

There may be larger hurdles to leap in the days, months and years ahead. But as for right now, similar to how a swing becomes memorized in the muscles, I consider focused golf - being present on executing one shot at a time- engrained in my mental attitude on the game.

And for me, it's a milestone I've been waiting for.

Hours of practice: 590

We're talking about five teams of two battling over the span of 36 holes on Saturday - best-ball, round robin style - then letting the dust settle and playing another 18 on Sunday for a shot at the chance to be deemed the Champion of the 2011 Mountain Manor Invitational. And although there are no FedEx points accounted for, pride and a traditional trophy were at stake.

Before offering my perspective, let me tell you: if you enjoy golf but have never had the opportunity to experience a tournament format, do yourself a favor and grab a few friends and organize something similar. The level of play is magnified and the intensity is second to none. To illustrate my point, imagine standing on the last tee box tied with the team you're facing off against three holes a piece. Your partner potentially hits an unplayable. You're last to tee off knowing the other team has a decent look at the green. Crushing one just to show you can does you no good. Making sure you put one in play is crucial, otherwise the hole is just about over, and the match to follow. This, my friends, is pressure. And it's great! If you appreciate golf for its mental demands, tournament golf is simply fantastic and right up your alley.

OK, so leading up to this weekend I was determined to sharpen a few personal flaws in my game (not that there aren't many still remaining). I promised myself I'd take one last range session to work on a few things, and in response to that promise, a reader commented on how I should approach my practices.

To summarize, he basically stated instead of hitting the same shot over and over, with the hopes that it would become memorized in the muscles, he suggested never hitting the same shot twice in a row. Because when you think about it, how many times do you consecutively hit the same shot twice? (To read more of this reader's comment, click here.)

With this method in mind, I attacked practice like a round of 18. With a club in hand, I focused on what I was trying to accomplish and delivered as best I could. (It's worth noting that in my previous sessions, just because I wasn't implementing this tactic didn't mean I wasn't aiming to deliver as best I could.) Rather than trying to hit a poor shot over just to see if I could, I accepted the poorness of it, and moved on with the session.

For some reason, it worked like hell. The four hours I devoted that day were efficient and calm. I never got frustrated nor discouraged. As we all know, though, how practice on the range carries over onto the course always remains the great unknown.

On the Friday morning before our weekend began, three goals entered my mind that I committed to for the entirety of the tourney. They were as follows:

- Keep my tee shots in the fairway
- Hit my long irons with more consistency
- Maintain mental composure

While the second one mostly fell short, I'm happy to say the first was probably the most successful, and proud to say the last was my greatest achievement.

I will admit that at times keeping my state of mind centered on the task at hand was a challenge. For starters, there was the heat. Couple the extreme temperatures with playing 36 holes of golf and believe me, your mental state would deteriorate as well (at least your game would). Over the course of 54 holes, and two days of golf, there were maybe two moments where I mentally broke down.

The first was after my team blew an opportunity to go two holes up, then proceeded to lose the next two, the weight of playing more than the usual 18 was taking its toll on me physically, which in turn affected my mechanics.

The second was after losing the semi-finals, we squared off with a chance for a 3rd place
finish. The significance of it all seemed mentally worthless, but that's the necessary composure I speak of. (We won this match and finished 3rd.) In these two moments I didn't have it.

Fortunately I had my partner to lift my spirits and help put matters into perspective. My temper tantrum lasted all of one or two poor shots and immediately I was focused again. But knowing golf isn't structured towards a team dynamic, I still have a lot of mental work to do.

Afterwards, and even now a few days later, I can't help but wonder that without the format of the weekend, would I have been so concentrated on execution? My gut is telling me no. After all, on a leisurely day out with friends, are you caring about playing good golf as much as if you were competing? As much as I'd like to say I would, I'd be lying.

Nevertheless, if I had to grade my performance for the weekend, I'd give myself a B-. As I mentioned, my long irons could have been more consistent along with a better short game when it counted. These two factors were responsible for bringing my grade down. Off the tee, overall, I'd say I earned an A-. My drives and 3-Wood were struck solidly with only a handful of errant shots coming to mind. My putting was OK, probably earning somewhere around a B to B+. And my mental composure, considering the factors I've already alluded to, would fall in the A range.

Aside from the mechanical obstacles golf offers, there are always the people that accompany you on any given round. The nine that did this weekend were an absolute pleasure to play with. Thanks to everyone for a great weekend, and my partner, Brian, for dealing with my intense insanity. Most of you haven't experienced it as intimately as Brian did, but sometimes I take this game a little too seriously. This weekend Brian took the brunt of it. He was a gentleman and a great partner when I needed him most. Thanks, Brian!

Coming off this golfing high may be the hardest challenge of all. With the rest of the season ahead of me, I look at it two ways: It'll be hard to match the intensity of the moment, but it's uplifting to know that my game can be taken to new heights.

Brian and I of course didn't have the good fortune of taking home the title. That went to a worthy Champion.

But I do look forward to next year.

Hours of practice: 575

Well, standing at 542 hours and crawling, life seems more and more to be pushing my golfing aspirations further and further down the list of priorities.  When the pursuit began, I realized this feat would be realistically close to impossible.  Actually, I shouldn't say 10,000 hours of practice was impossible; rather accomplishing this goal in an adequate period leaving any hopes of a professional stint was the impossible part.  10,000 hours of golf will happen.  That I'm certain about.  I'm only hoping it's before my kids qualify for the Senior Tour.

Since The Golf Blog began in September of 2009, I've managed to accumulate 242 hours in almost 20 months.  In other words, I've put in a little over 12 hours a month.  For the average golfer I'd say that's pretty good. But want to know the sobering truth?  If this pace continues, and I expect to reach Malcolm Gladwell's bench mark for perfection, 9,458 hours remain and I'll need 788 months to attain them.  In human years (oh how I wish it were dog years), it would take another 65 years to get there!

Basically, something's gotta give.

The obvious solution would be more hours a month.  But a vague goal setting won't get us there.  No.  We need a specific attack to avoid being an even 100 years old when Malcolm and I reach our destiny.

There are two approaches to take.  One, I figure an average of five hours is spent on a round of golf.  If I can manage to get two rounds a month in during the Northeast's peak (April-October), coupled with a minimum of two 3 hour range sessions a month, then bumping the range time up to three 5 hour sessions during off peak months, this would give me around 187 hours a year.   Are you ready for this? This plan would knock the journey's finish time down to 50 years! (Is there a maximum age limit for the Senior Tour?)

The alternative, and I think the better option, would be more concentrated golf - literally.  Perhaps I can prove Gladwell's theory wrong?  Maybe all I need are 8,000 hours or even 5,000.  Respectively, it would take me 39 or 23 years to reach the top of the mountain. (If I increased my work load as described above.)

The real reality is that 35 years have gone by and I only have 542 hours of golf to show for it.  Unfortunately, what's in the past cannot be changed and what's yet to come might be out-of-reach.  But this does not mean it cannot be dreamt.

Regardless of whether 10,000 hours is ever reached, one thing is for sure: to paraphrase Winston Churchill - I'll never, never, never give up!

And neither should you.

Hours of practice: 542

While walking a lonely nine holes (don't feel bad for me, I actually prefer it), I got to thinking: if golf is so difficult to perfect, and the object is to do better than expected for the particular course (below par), why do we in turn agonize over the results so much? After all, shooting somewhere in the 80s, or even 90s for crying out loud, is respectable. OK, not for the advanced golfer or weekend warrior, but consistently keeping it in the upper 80s/low 90s is a nice day on the course.

Now here's where it gets tricky, though. Say you're out for a round and after the front, begin feeling as though you're shooting something decent; maybe even approaching high 70s/low 80s. You believe in superstitions so you don't eye up your scorecard. On the back, you claw and grind your way to a few pars, some bogey saves, and maybe one hole that saw your drive end up in the water forcing you to pencil in a double.

Afterwards you tally it all up and what do you have: an 88. Unbelievable you think. How could that great round, at least in feeling anyway, add up to an 88? You review your card and find you shot a 45 on the front, followed by a 43 on the back.

On your way home you begin feeling discouraged that low 80s simply isn't possible. If not now, when? Looking back, you try and recall the moments that had you thinking lower than the reality. There was the great up and down on No. 4 that saved bogey. The tee shot on No. 11 that led to a missed green and a three putt. The ten footer that saved par after being on in regulation and leaving your birdie putt short.

The point: maybe the round wasn't as great as you thought.

Then it finally dawns on you: this game is hard, and there's nothing wrong with being average at it. As a matter of fact, it's damn hard and if you can go out and hold your own with a high 80 score or low 90, good for you. Gather three buddies and enjoy a beautiful Saturday afternoon together. If you're the one they're admiring throughout the day, you're doing something right.

For the record, the scenario I described above, although I've yet to experience it this year, has caused me some agony on rides home. Overall, it's hard coming to gripes with the fact that average is the reality for most of us in this game.

But reality, when put into perspective against the difficulty of golf, isn't all that bad.

For me, instead of wondering how many golfers want to improve their game from week to week, I'm beginning to think how many of them would kill to shoot in the high 80s/low 90s. And I vow to you now: if by year's end I'm not consistently shooting in the high 80s/low 90s, this blog, and my game, will have to take a back seat to life's other obstacles.

This is the attitude that's accompanying me onto the course from now on.

And it's quite average.

Hours of practice: 537

That said, I'm not gonna lie.  When you shoot a 101 on the first 18 hole round of the season, it sure is hard to find something worth hanging your hat on. 

For this latest round, right off the bat my swing didn't feel smooth.  It was a frigid morning and the extra layers were causing my midsection to clog up as I took any swing back.  My hands were cold, nose was running, eyes were watering up from the wind kicking up every so often, and quite frankly, standing over any shot and sizing it up for distance and placement didn't seem all that necessary.  After feeling this way for the first two or three holes, once I loosened up, the uneasiness eventually wore off and so did the conditions excuse.  From then on, it was simply bad golf. 

Sure, there was an occasional 6-Iron on a par 3 that I stuck to within 15 feet (I missed the birdie putt).  A very crisp lay up with an 8-Iron on a par 5 (I parred the hole).  And of course, as the old cliché goes, the shot that brings us all back.

On 18, after losing my drive into the woods right, I dropped 240 yards from the hole.  As I noted earlier this season, I'm committed to using my 3-Wood and Rescue club with more consistency this year.  True to my word, I pulled the Rescue out for the second time of the day and nailed it about 230 yards straight down the middle.  (The first time was a few holes prior when I hit it cleanly but pushed it right.)  When I say the second one felt good, it's an understatement. 

Now mind you this was the last hole of a tough golfing day.  It was hard to mentally sum up the round on this one shot.  There were fat iron shots from the fairway; a very poorly hit drive after previously playing a par 5 flawlessly; mismanaged holes; and even, for the first time in as long as I can remember, if any, a flat out whiff with my PW on the first hole. 

With this said, then, a 230 yard Rescue shot shouldn't be taken out of context.  In the moment immediately after I hit it, it was what it was.  A good golf shot on the 18th hole; nothing more, nothing less.  And you know what, looking at it this way might be the most significant aspect that came out of my round.  If you think about it, achieving great golf requires perceiving one shot at a time.  We can look ahead to ball placement in order to put ourselves in better striking distance on the next shot, but when we get to that next shot, a hundred percent concentration on that shot is needed in order to execute it properly.

This doesn't mean that the Rescue shot wasn't important, however.  On the contrary, it was one of the most meaningful shots of the day - after the fact. 

Looking back on any round, I try to take something positive from it.  Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's hard. (When I enter the 2011 season trying to build on the accomplishments of 2010 and I shoot a 101, believe me it's hard.)  But golf, similar to life, should try to be looked at through a bright-eyed prism.  Somewhere in every round lies a magical moment.  Whether it's a 20 foot putt for birdie, a drive you crush straight down the fairway, an iron you hit with absolute precision, or a perfectly managed hole, we all experience them at least once during a round.  The Rescue shot on 18 was one of these moments for me.

In order to constantly improve our golfing abilities, instead of focusing on something poor that came from a given round, or a particular hole, expending our energies on something positive will help reinforce that experience the next time.  Rather than walking off a double bogeyed hole obsessing about the shot in the water, think about the up and down you executed that salvaged the hole. 

Perhaps a cheesy analogy, but just as it takes less muscles to smile than frown, we exert less energy (and save more time) if we stay positive instead of negative.  Keeping our head up and our mindset focused on greatness can enable anyone to achieve it.

Until my next round, it'll be my Rescue shot on 18 that's continuously embedded in my psyche. 

Hours of practice: 530

While playing, a few things came to mind.  The first being how it's inopportune, golfing wise, to live in the Northeast.  I realize I've expressed this before, and believe me, I'm not using it as an excuse.  But the Northeast takes the difficulties of golf and magnifies them by 10.  After all, no matter how much time you spend practicing at the range during the cold months of old man winter, no mat will substitute for the real thing. 

On the course, blades of grass impede between the direct impact of club and ball; slopped fairways (or rough) force you to stand at angles you aren't yet comfortable with; walking nine holes and carrying your bag takes its toll on the body; and most notably, the mental capacity required to focus the entire time, on every shot, isn't up to par.  Therefore, it takes a few rounds before a rhythm is found. 

The second thought I had was keeping score.  Being it was the first time out, and that a cold Saturday morning in April isn't the same as an 80 degree one in June, I was more concerned with multiple shots from the same area than the outcomes themselves. (It's refreshing not to concern yourself with the final destination of the shot, but rather with the clean contact you're making time and time again.)  I mean, having not played since October, I figured it wasn't going to be pretty.  In actuality, though, it wasn't as bad as I thought.  My irons were struck with consistency, my hands were soft leading to an accurate short game, and although I wasn't at all focused or worried about it, the putter was really good.

Nevertheless, the first nine holes of 2011 weren't going on the scorecard. 

The last thought that entered my thinking here and there was you.  I found myself constantly wondering what my golfing friends were doing on a Saturday morning in April.  Were you working on your game?  And if so, which aspects? 

As golfers, let's face it, there's golf season, and there's not.  Now that golf has officially begun to take over our lives, we need to get into "golf shape."  When I told this to a friend a few weeks back, he was intrigued.  "What's golf shape?," he asked.  I quickly replied that golf shape was getting to the point that hitting hundreds of golf balls at a time wouldn't be a problem.  In other words, getting your golf stamina up.   

Until this Saturday, I thought I knew what I was talking about.  Now I know differently. 

Ok.  Try and follow me here.  There's golf season shape that spans the entire season.  And there's early golf season shape. 

The entire season requires becoming more consistent and learning to score again.  It's about getting  back into that late form of 2010.  You know.  The one where the mechanics were finally starting to feel right and irons and woods were flying off the clubhead with grace.  Fast forward after a few months off and it's sort of back to square one.

On the other hand, early golf season shape is about appreciation.  At least to me, my idea now incorporates what else golf has to offer: Spring in full bloom; walking a beautiful course on a brisk April morning; the company and conversation of good friends.  It's these extra qualities of golf that push us off the couch each year. 

When you're out for your next round, consider them.  I promise they'll help your day.  For me, aside from knowing that eventually I'll have to forgo good conversation for the sake of focusing on more efficient golf, this past Saturday was my gentle reminder why I love this game in the first place.

When the rigors of winter finally melt away, and the stress of every day life is left in the parking lot, all that remains is golf. 

And I'll take that no matter what shape I'm in.

Hours of practice: 525

But then humility kicks in, along with an 80-yard snap hook into the woods, water, or some far off out-of-bounds area.  As we walk to the drop zone, the thoughts turn into, "what the hell am I doing here." 

We proceed to drop our ball - hopefully taking a penalty in the process - then nail a 7-Iron six feet from the pin and praise ourselves all the way to the green thinking how the game really is "not that hard." 

Pondering these roller coaster of emotions afterwards, the epiphany is then quite simple: the pros are better focused; not to mention better at executing any shot they feel. 

Touching on the first realization about focus, it's not the type of focus where they're in the zone for the entire time.  In fact, there are probably plenty of times when they too have a moment of mental weakness where some stressful "off the course" matter creeps into their head.  And you know what, they may even give it enough credence to affect their next shot.  

But what separates their ability to focus over ours is they compartmentalize the thought, understand the here and now, then refocus on the next shot shaping it exactly the way they want.  Having understood and accepted this notion, I have one frustration: the professional's life is all golf all the time.

At 35, I'm unfortunately not given that luxury any longer.  My full-time thoughts are consumed with, like most of us, my full-time job.  Granted that when I get on the course it's golf that actually relaxes me and allows the every day stress to be alleviated.  But after Nick Faldo commented on Ian Poulter's claim that Tiger Woods would not finish in the top five at the Masters (Tiger finished fourth), and how when Faldo was playing he wouldn't waste any time with outside distractions, I began thinking how these guys live, breath and eat golf.

Sure, they have stress off the course like you and me.  They have family worries (Tiger); health issues (Phil); even, believe it or not, financial concerns (John Daly).  But for the most part the elite only think golf.  Now although my wife would tell you I do the same, on the contrary, the time devoted to concentrating on my game is somewhere near 20 per cent of where it needs to be.  If I could give everything up and focus 100 per cent on making a living in golf, I would do it in a second.  Sadly, that's not happening.  Not yet.

To get to that place will require, at least for now, focusing on epiphany No. 2: shot execution.

This Saturday I spent three hours working on the driver, rescue and 3-Wood.  Over the years I've placed some emphasis on hitting my driver well, but never really worried much about the other two.  That's going to change.

When I finally hit the course this upcoming Saturday, I plan to incorporate an entire bag of shots.  In theory, it would be nice to have comfort with all of my clubs, for once.  The professional steps up to a fairway shot with a 3-Wood in hand and never thinks about topping it.  For me, that's probably 90 per cent of what's flowing through my head. 

So in practicing the rescue and 3-Wood, my main emphasis was on contact and hitting down on the ball.  You know what?  It went really well.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I know.  The course will be different and I'll probably top it the first time like I always do.  But you know what?  I definitely won't the second time.

There are two beliefs I've always stood for: practice makes perfect and if you set your mind to something, you will accomplish it.  

Considering both, my 2011 focus is shot execution. 

What's yours?     

Hours of practice: 522