Are you Lost In Space?

The remedy is already in your possession.

Imagine you had a state of the art device which could revolutionise your golf. This device would require some calibration, a brief period of trial and error but after this would be the single most important tool at your disposal. It would be easy to use, cheap to run and best of all would be absolutely free.

You'd use it constantly...wouldn't you?

After all, you'd be crazy to pass up something like this. Why on earth would anyone not want to use it?

And yet most of us completely fail to realise such a system is already in our possession.

It's even thought to be older than our sense of smell.

You can't hear what it's telling you because you've forgotten how to listen and it's hurting your golf game.

It's not the sense that tells your arse from your elbow; instead it gives scrupulously precise information on where your arse is relative to your elbow. It's vital for any pursuit that involves moving any part of the body whilst looking elsewhere.

It's the awareness of the body's posture both at rest and on the move, arising from nerve sensors inside our muscles, tendons and joints. Often known as kinaesthesia or proprioception, it doesn't matter what you call it. Just learn to listen to what it's telling you.

Cultivating our awareness of this sense accelerates acquisition of motor skills. How often have you had a swing lesson, spent some time at the range working on what you thought you should be doing only to find at the next lesson you've got it wrong? Would it not be easier to remember the positions our body should be in when we're aware of how those positions feel? Are we not more likely to be able to repeat the great shot we just hit if we train our position sense to analyse and record the movement? Positional awareness is crucial should we wish to influence any complex sequence of movements.

We have in our possession a complex sense more remarkable than any GPS system and yet we're happy to spend significant amounts on gadgets whilst neglecting our intrinsic hardware. Which of these do you think has more potential to improve your golf?

Once again, I'd love to hear your thoughts. 

Thanks for reading!

Go with the flow and you'll feel like a Pro

Is your shot routine a well-oiled machine?

Think of the last professional golf event you watched. Think of the final round where the TV cameras take more time over the players in contention, rather than jumping around with televisual attention deficit disorder. Think of all the times you watched players complete their shot routine. Now think of the last time you played and the routines you saw out on the course.

Imagine someone has taken the trouble to motion capture the shot routine of the entire gamut of golfers, showing them from initial planning until the initiation of the back swing. Do you think that you would be able to tell the professional from the amateur? The single digit handicap from the lucky-if-he's-28?

I'm confident it'd be obvious to anyone who took the time to look. Even if all of the golfers were replaced with a CGI Tiger Woods.

It all comes down to flow.

This dawned on me recently. I found myself behind some novice golfers during a practice round. Their skill level was immediately apparent, even from 250 yards down the fairway. The time they took over the ball was remarkable; it was obvious they were trying to consciously control every part of their swing. There were too many practice swings to count, and then a very long pause before the backswing started with a jerk and a wobble.

Please don't misunderstand my reason for mentioning this. I wasn't harrumphing about the delay, I didn't put my bitch wings up or stride forward to remonstrate.

Instead I watched, waited and pondered. It really wasn't that long ago that I was there, 18 months at most. My last attempt at a medal round has also shown that I still need to be on my guard. If I'm not playing at my best I have a tendency to slow down and try to think my way through my swing. To date, this has never made the situation any better and usually makes it worse.

Think about it - have you found yourself thinking how to do something that's usually automatic and ended up making a mess of it?

As a student, I had a lecture on the anatomy of walking - a pretty interesting topic, not least because computerised analysis of gait patterns was just starting to be used. (I'm showing my age here; we've now reached the stage when similar technology is being used to analyse the biomechanics of the golf swing).

The really fascinating thing is what happened after the lecture. Not one of us was able to walk comfortably. We were clumsily stumbling, bumping into each other as we tried to consciously control something we hadn't thought about for years. I'll never forget the smile on the lecturer's face.

So if trying to consciously control something as fundamental as walking is a disaster, what then are the chances of consciously controlling our swing leading to a good result?

I was practising chipping a couple of weeks ago, working on trying to get balls into a laundry basket. I realised that my best shots were coming when I set up and swung with swiftly unhurried efficiency. These swings were not rushed, but I'd be focused on my target, swing my eyes back to the ball, feel settled (I thought of it as "half a heartbeat", the lub of the lub-dub) then starting the swing. Once again the focus was on propelling the appropriate amount of energy to the target letting the back swing take care of itself. This was very successful, and results improved still further as I concentrated on making the routine flow as slickly as possible.

In other words, I start my swing before I start thinking. The flowing rhythm through the routine allows me to swing reflexively, with my feeling brain rather than under the clumsy control of the higher or thinking brain. Don't get me wrong, the thinking brain has a role in golf, but it's limited to the initial planning phase of the shot routine. It quickly analyses the factors affecting any given shot along with calculating which shot characteristics give the best chance for success. It then decides on the shot, the club and the aim, before handing over the baton to the feeling brain.

Lynn Marriott and Pia Nilsson at VISION54 probably characterise this best with their Think Box/Play Box concept, going so far as to encourage their players to put down a marker as a decision line whilst rehearsing so that they get used to the discipline of moving from thinking to feeling, of making the decision and then committing to it.

I've struggled with this a bit, as my thinking brain is used to calling all the shots. It's hovering in the background like an IT consultant watching their technophobic partner on the Internet, just dying for the slightest opportunity to take over. By flowing into the routine and executing the shot with swiftly unhurried efficiency, my feeling brain can execute the shot before the thinking brain has even realised what's happened and is still filled with thoughts of the target, by far the most useful place for most if not all of us to park our conscious attention. What do you think most tour professionals are thinking of when they swing? I'm certain that focusing my attention on this area over the winter will yield better results than trying to perfect how I swing a club.

What about you? Is your routine the well oiled machine of the low handicappers at your club? Is it consistent and fluid, running freely from behind the ball to your follow through? Or are you, trying too hard to swing the club precisely through the latest positions in Golf Monthly, or constantly trying to learn how to swing during a round? Can you identify with my experience above?

If you can, why not try it next time you're mucking about chipping. Pick the target, swivel eyes back to ball, tiny pause...then go. Watch the results. Try it at the range if it works in your short game.

It might just be an easy way to look, feel and ultimately play more like a pro.

This is what I'm going to be working on this winter. If you're intrigued and think it might helpful, please give it a go. Please let me know if and how it works for you.

(This post was a re-working of a post that didn't quite work. I'm working through PushingSocial's keys to spectacular blog posts. I can heartily recommend this program and their excellent content. If you're blogging and are new to the game or looking for a way to tzuj up your content, check them out)

A postcard from The Zone

I've been there and it's even better than we're told.

It's spoken of in terms of hushed reverence, a near-mystical destination, a Golfing Nirvana. Professional golfers struggle to define it, yet in doing so convey a sense of it's magnitude. We read on in envy, not quite able to believe that we are capable of accessing it. We feel that if we ever get there, as soon as we realise it will evaporate, never to return

And yet I've been in The Zone, so many times I've lost count. I've been there before I knew of it's existence, long before I even thought of taking up golf. And yet when I realised what it was, it didn't disappear. Techniques gleaned from golf performance coaches allowed me to consciously extend, explore and enjoy my experience.

Even before discovering it was known as The Zone I was aware that there were certain activities where I could become so engaged I'd reach a state of capability far in advance of what I could ordinarily achieve; where I could, if circumstances were correct, completely lose myself and eventually awaken exhilarated and awash with energy.

One such pursuit was dancing. Long before meeting Mrs Geek, having the Geeklets and discovering golf I enjoyed heading out on Friday or Saturday night to a club. I absolutely love music and have a very eclectic taste, so it didn't matter what was playing. Funk, soul, house or jazz (the best nights were the ones where all of these and more were on the menu) as long as you could dance to it, I would.

Now, I'd never lay claim to being the best of dancers. I tend to dance from the knees up, feet firmly planted to the floor, a writhing mass of arms swaying from side to side in front of the beat. Think of a Martial Artist who's had his feet nailed to the ground, who's fighting off opponents who proceed in a rhythmical fashion and you're pretty much there. I can't do any other style of dancing, it's just this. But what I did have was the ability to totally immerse myself in the music, anticipating it's beat, really feeling it's soul in mine. And it's an incredible feeling; when I tried to describe it to friends I found myself couching it in the same pseudo-mystical terms in which The Zone is described. ("Connected to the rhythms of the Universe" is one comment I took a long time to live down). I wasn't always able to get to this place, but when I did it was worth it. There were definitely times I lost my "mojo" by trying too hard.

Our fear is that the Zone will dissipate as soon as we realise we are there. I'm glad to say this isn't the case. Life limits me to a couple of nights out dancing each year, but I'm able to get into The Zone on almost every opportunity. I was perhaps guilty of trying too hard after first learning of The Zone. This lead to a fun but slightly frustrating night where I'd appear at the gateway to The Zone only to tense up and lose it. Reflecting on that experience, I thought about this tension and resolved to deal with it at the next opportunity. I realised I was tensing my feet and I directed awareness there, uncurled them and relaxed into The Zone. I then also tried a distraction technique I'd learned from Andy Morrison with great success ("Glued Tongue" in case you were wondering; this technique's on the free report from his website, please check it out). Any time I now feel myself losing my flow, I uncurl my toes and pretend my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. It may sound odd, but it is of course absolutely invisible to anyone who happens to be watching.

So how does this relate to my golf? Well, I'm still trying to work it out. Although dancing and golf are both motor activities, they're very different. Golf seems very on/off and isn't reactive whereas dancing is all about reacting to the music. You can also choose which songs to dance to, and choose if and when to take a break. However, the sense of rhythm and flow that dancing provides must help in golf and as I've said before one of my prinicpal goals for the approaching winter is to have my routine flowing throughout. I also press my index finger and thumb on my right hand frimly together when I realise I'm there to "anchor" that feeling to that gesture. Some may be sceptical of anchoring, but there's no way it can be harmful, so why not try?

The main benefit though is that I not only truly believe The Zone exists, but I know I can get there and remain there. This isn't some abstract obscure state that only golfing Yogis can access, it's there for us all. Best of all, I know how good it feels. I may not have got there whilst golfing yet, but I will. And when I do you can bet I'll be uncurling my toes and pretending my tongue's glued to the roof of my mouth. You won't be able to see this, of course.

All you'll be able to see is my smile.

A question

Having had a wee look at my blog stats, it seems that what garners most interest is when I extrapolate from my on course experiences to find generalisable lessons; is this something I should thus concentrate on, or should I perhaps continue to post both personal and more general posts, but promoting only the latter? I'm really not sure, so I'd be really interested to hear your thoughts on the issue.

Visualisation & I

I wrote my last post rather more quickly than usual, as I was under pressure of time. I'd meant to write and post the night before, but had got caught up in the computer black hole, so I had a very narrow window before Master Geek awoke from his nap. I'm quite happy on the whole, but what struck me was how convoluted my new shot routine might seem. Nothing could be further from the truth; it has in fact been significantly streamlined.

The principal difficulty has arisen because I've read almost all of my mental game advice. Most of my tuition (all of it until I encountered the Instinctive Golf team) was technical advice; Instinctive Golf have added so much more but because these have been small group lessons, there hasn't been that much specifically on the mental game.

So I've been reading about the importance of the shot routine; how it should precede every shot to provide refuge in high pressure situations; and it's components. Almost everyone has been very big on the importance of visualisation and "seeing" the shot before playing. This has led to me earnestly giving every fairway and green my "1000 yard stare" as I try to burn an image of the desired shot onto the landscape before making my practice swing and setting up to the ball. I've written before about the issues I've had trying too hard to get the clubface square, playing with a "downward focus" rather than gripping the club properly, looking at where I want the ball to go & pointing the club there, trusting it's aimed correctly (what I term an "outward focus"). This is what works for me, so it's included in my new regime. Like many high handicap amateurs I get "stuck" over the ball to my detriment, so I've been working on better "flow" through the routine- very much a work-in-progress, but I'm really excited about my new streamlined routine.

What I've totally failed to grasp is how wrong I've got visualisation. Trying to burn a hole in the very fabric of reality by dint of my hyper-intense glare is not only impossible, it's unnecessary, unhelpful and significantly contributing to feeling "stuck" over the ball. For uncomplicated, clear shots all I need is an idea of the shot I want to play and the feeling that gives rise to that shot; this seems to occur for me just on the cusp between conscious and unconscious thought. All I then need to do is make sure I have a good picture of where I want the ball to go, a sense of direction to guide alignment and then setup up with an outward focus, relax, swing eyes from target to ball, brief pause (I think of it as half a heartbeat) then start to swing the club before conscious thought can intrude. The addition of the deep breath with eyes closed, opening at the end of exhalation is an NLP technique from the "Golfer Within" program. I think it helps, and it certainly doesn't hurt, so it stays in.

It's not an overstatement to say that I feel liberated by this realisation. I'm going to be spending quite a bit of time this winter working on my routine, making it second nature so that when spring arrives I've ready to take it into competition. Over-thinking is something I'm always going to have to watch out for, but armed with awareness I'm more than a match for it. I might have some way to go before I can reach Brian (@njGuinness)'s state of #CavemanGolf, but I'm looking forward to travelling along that path.

What are your thoughts and experiences with visualisation? Are they similar or very different to mine? Think I've got it wrong? Let me know - either below or tweet me up @The_Golf_Geek on that there Twitter-ma-jig

The knack of throwing yourself at the ground...

...and missing.

Douglas Adams thus describes the art of flying in his Magnum Opus, the in-aptly named 5 book Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy trilogy (if I remember correctly it's in Life, the Universe and Everything although please don't leave angry comments if I'm wrong ;-). He goes on to detail how some flying clubs employ arrestingly attractive nude models or interesting conversationalists to distract the would-be flyer at the point where collision with terra firma appears inevitable.

It may seem odd that this came to me whilst pondering my last round of golf, but occur it did, and I'm going to use the rest of this post in an attempt to explain the relevance.

As I was returning from a break, I felt out of practice and thus didn't have the trust in my swing that had been there some two weeks previously. I'd even gone back to worrying about how the club face was positioned at address, with the result that it all looked strange no matter how I applied it. My playing partners commented on how I seemed to be thinking too much- an occupational hazard for those of us who paid to think. The corollary was that I was taking more time over the ball, leading to impatience around me. The time I take over the ball isn't an issue if I'm hitting it well, but if I'm not then it becomes a problem.

I wouldn't be worried if I took the maximum time allowed to enable me to hit the ball well; playing partners would just have to accept I was entitled to it. However, I'm increasingly coming to think that when I'm playing well I take the least time over the ball, and slowing down becomes part of the problem itself rather than a necessary part of the cure.

This has lead me to experiment whilst on holiday at my parents' house. Their lawn is large, and in poor condition due to lots of moss. This is great as it means they're unconcerned about how it looks after I've stayed (the moss is also springy enough to simulate coarse wet sand thus improving my bunker play ;-). Practicing chipping, I've come to realise that I perform my best when the shot routine is thus:

Stand behind ball, on ball target line to get sense of direction and identify target (& landing spot, as this is a chip, not such an issue for full shot as too far distant); take a clearing breath with eyes closed, open them at the end of exhalation whilst gripping the club. Then walk up to stance, keeping eyes on target. Set up for practice swing beside ball (as it's a short game shot, distance most important; for long game shot, it'd be behind ball on ball-target line as line most important) Swing eyes to where ball would be, start swing just after eyes alight there. Then set up behind ball with eyes on target, swing eyes back to ball and start swing just after they come to the ball.

Results with this have been fantastic on both line and length; I don't think it's accidental that this is also when my routine is at it's slickest. Or in other words:

It's vitally important that I start swinging my club before I have a chance to start thinking.

This way, all of my mind is filled with thoughts of the target and my body can get on with swinging the club at a brain stem/reflexive level, rather than under the clumsy auspices of conscious cerebral cortical control.

This may seem a rather convoluted way to realise that I need to feel the target and trust my body to swing, but it's the only way I've come to understand what I've read so many times before. It really is tricky to stop thinking when you're paid to think at work, and work in a job where a degree of neurosis is helpful, even essential. I often golf with fishermen who marvel at the knots my mind can tie itself in. This is my way around that.

The nice corollary is that, by improving my play by taking less time over the ball, I play faster for two reasons, making me a better golfer and better playing partner. Which can only be good.

This is how I can learn to throw myself at the ground...and miss.

An abortive return

As I had the weekend before last free, I'd decided to end my self imposed exile from golf, and ease myself in with a medal round. I'd enjoyed my break, and had filled it up with good quality family time to the point where I hadn't really managed to visit the range as I'd planned. I'd thought I'd have been able to have picked things up close to where I'd left them in spite of the lack of practice time.

Sadly this wasn't the case. I should really have listened to the omens when no of my prospective playing partners had turned up, and gone off for a solitary "refresher" round, in which I'd have got myself back into the groove. Even one range session, or a quick practice round on the 6-hole course would have done, but instead I'd ended up waiting to get squeezed in with a 3-ball from another club that plays on the course (members of any of the 3 clubs can sign a competitive card to allow for this sort of eventuality). I ended up with two single digit handicappers and a 10 handicap; this wouldn't have been an issue if I'd been playing to my pre-break form but I was nowhere near. My playing partners were helpful, patient and polite, but after losing a ball off the 11th tee (I'd thought it had flown the gorse bushes when it hadn't, so I hadn't played a provisional ball) I NR'd. I eventually took my leave of them at the 14th, which let me cut my losses and spend some more time with my Geeklets. I'd been quite proud of never having NR'd, so it stung a bit to have done this, but I really hadn't wanted to hold up my playing partners by trudging back to the tee on a day when I'd been playing so poorly.

Lessons have been learned. I'll never return from a break of more than two weeks straight into competitive golf; there will need to be at least one range/practice session or a round on the par-21 course if not both. If I am in the situation where playing partners haven't arrived, I'll weigh up the merits of trying to get a competitive round with the difficulties that come from hanging around getting "stale" on the 1st tee, and if I'm in any doubt I'll play on my own rather than wait for a space. It's also reinforced that if I'm in anydoubt about the whereabouts of my ball I'll play a provisional.

In this case, the lack of practice time probably meant that I wasn't ready to come back and play after my break; had I been ready I'd have found time. I've not played a round since, but I've had a good couple of range sessions as well as a lot of time in my parent's back garden, just working on the interaction of clubface and ball, in clubface angle to path, angle of attack and swing path as well as on my routine. I'm not going to play competitively for a little longer, but do plan to play matchplay competing with friends. I view strokeplay as the pinnacle of the game (the equivalent of a Test in cricket, with matchplay closer to a limited overs match) but want to play for the joy of creating shots for a bit rather than the patient defence of a good strokeplay round.

This round may have been disappointing at the time, but when I look at what I've learned, I can see just how useful it's been in the long run. That really outweighs any disappointment I may have felt in the short term.