Speaking of ... Common Sense ...

The last text in this category was not so long ago. In this respect, it's still true: I'm a couch potato, the scales still show too much for my size. I don't move enough.

That's why I'm happy to have found a sport in golf that challenges me mentally and, above all, physically, that makes my forehead sweat, where I not only have to move, but also want to move.

Sport is becoming important

I'm slowly reaching an age where sporting activity is becoming increasingly important if I want to enjoy another two, hopefully three good decades. It's important to challenge yourself and your body. But it doesn't have to be to the absolute limit.

You can do it in your 20s without having to worry that your heart won't want to do it anymore. You can also do it at my age, past the halfway mark, but then your body should be ready for it, it should be fit. That's not me.

Doing more "distance"

Stairs are slowly becoming a challenge. A sure sign that I should be moving more. That's why I want to step up my golfing, spend more time on the course, "go the distance" more.

But recently it became clear to me that I can no longer just march off. My head still wants to go through the wall, but my body doesn't. It was a real shot across the bow.

Back on the pitch at last

Here's what happened: I had an appointment with my regular golf partner on the course. We both had the day off, so we met shortly after 10 a.m. to tee off on the range; the round was due to start at 11 a.m. Our favorite course is divided into a long round of 9 holes and a short course with 8 par 3 holes and a par 4 at the end. We wanted to start on the latter course.

It was warm that day, no, it was hot. Blazing sun and not a cloud in the sky. We were already sweating as we got out of the cars and prepared our cutlery. We hit the range in the shade, but afterwards the sun beat down on us mercilessly on the short round.

Not paying attention

And after the third hole, I realized: not only did I not have enough liquid with me, namely only a 0.33 bottle of water. Not only had I already drunk too little in the morning and the day before, but I had hardly eaten anything either. I simply didn't feel hungry in the heat of the day.

Now I had to pay the price for my thoughtlessness: Heat and "hunger pangs", as the professional cyclists call it, caused a merciless drop in performance. Suddenly it just didn't work anymore. I lacked concentration and power. The steps became difficult.

Misjudgment

I gave up on the last two holes of the short round and saved myself for the clubhouse, where several chocolate bars and half a liter of cold apple spritzer helped me get through the weak phase. At least that's what I thought, and I set off on the second, long 9-hole round with my partner, refreshed and in a great mood.

But I had done the math without considering my age, my weight and my fitness level. And so after another four holes, the fun was over again. I had no choice but to give up on this round too. As we passed the parking lot on the way to tee 6, I stowed my things in the trunk of my car, walked the last few holes as a spectator and companion - and felt miserable.

Reaching my limits

Not because what had just happened to me had happened, but because I realized that I had reached my limits, those of age, which had never been so noticeable, and those of performance - due to carelessness. I wasn't paying attention, I wasn't eating and drinking enough and my body was showing me that the time when that might have been possible was simply over.

No, I don't get depressed about it. There's no reason to be. Despite my lack of fitness and increasing age, I'm doing well. And to ensure that this continues to be the case, I will pay much more attention in future to what I do and when, what I eat and when, and how much I drink.

Becoming sensible

Perhaps a day like this had to come and I had to be pushed to the limit in one of my favorite activities so that I could learn to take care of myself and become sensible.

It was the clear end of immortality. And I'm even a little grateful for that.