I was 10 holes and one drive through my round at Elkdale Country Club last Sunday morning when something strange happened – I temporarily had a heck of a golf swing.

Just off the fairway and about 155 yards out, I struck a six iron that headed toward the right side of the green, bounded off a small mound and rolled to six inches behind the cup. A tap in birdie? I strolled to the green ready to cash in on the diamond in the rough of a swing I’d just authored.

I headed to the 12th hole, a Par 3 that was playing about 165 into a slight breeze. Knowing I usually follow up a birdie with an epic double or triple, I prepared for the worst as I gripped my five iron. Then, oddly, I was befuddled as I watched the ball sail toward the green and check up two-feet below the pin. I’d found my second straight birdie look in as many holes. I made the putt and earned back-to-back birdies for the first time in my golfing life.

The rest of the round? Not so memorable. As quick as my swinging prowess appeared it left me on the 13th tee when I lost a drive right into the trees, eventually making a bogey. I moved back over par a hole later when I doubled the 14th.

I love golf dearly, but most days it beats me up. My goal is always to break 90 on 18 holes and I’ve only done it once this year. It was fun for those two holes Sunday morning to toss a bit of a haymaker back at the golfing gods.

Golf is the greatest game in the world…I’m convinced. But it’s mighty perplexing. If that kind of swing is in me….where does it hide all the time?