On Tuesday before Thanksgiving, on the off-chance that the Buffalo Turkey Trot would be run in less than ideal weather, I hit the Delaware Park Meadows circuit for three laps, roughly around 5.5 miles. One of those survival runs where the wind crashes into your chest, just as you summit the corner by the Native American statue and head for the downhill, the laps were as much as I could handle.

Imagine my immense joy, though, when I looked out to the fairways and saw Retro Dude, a bearded type smacking the little white ball around. Clubs with no head covers, esconced in a red & white, leather, Titleist cart bag from, who knows, 1979? Dude was oblivious to atmospheric intimidation, immune from weather’s influence. Kept plodding along, indifferent to cold, wind, wetness.

I later found out that The Scrambler was also on the prowl, working his way around the Links at Ivy Ridge in Akron, at roughly the same time. Old Scrambles has lately taken to playing two-ball scramble with himself, attempting to break par. It seems to be a great way to pass the stolen holes, especially when hacking solo. Reading texts like “wind and hard greens big factor” and “WOW…17 is going to be a %^& today” made me laugh and imagine my run transformed, into a round of golf.

Stolen holes…hardly ever measured by score. Always measured by experiential factors.