On those rare days I can putt, I actually play pretty good golf

I used to play a lot of golf.

When we first moved here in November 2010, I took every opportunity to get out on our golf course. I had always thought if I played regularly, I could improve my game and maybe someday break 80.

The ninth green.

I played a lot the first year -- 22 times in May alone -- and my game improved a great deal.

I broke 80, which was wonderful, and in my best round ever, I shot one over par for nine holes.

But starting some months back, things kept coming up and I stopped playing as much.

The last time I had played here was the first week in November, and I played very badly. I pretty much took the winter off. For the last two weeks or so, I had been trying to talk myself into getting out and playing again. The weather has been mixed up, and it seemed like every time I decided to play the next day, it rained.

Finally today, I decided to give it a try. I didn't expect much. It had been months since I had even swung a club, and the course was in terrible shape from rain earlier in the week. I was hoping I could break 90, but not counting on it. I decided to play from the senior tees.

But a strange thing happened.

I was hitting good shots. Not extremely long off the tee, but 180-200 yards and usually in the middle of the fairway. Decent approach shots, too. And best of all, I was making putts. I never make putts. It has been the weakest part of my game for several years. I've had rounds where I haven't made a putt longer than two or three feet.

But on the front nine, I made par putts from 6, 8 and 10 feet and finished with a 41.

It looked as if it would catch up with me on the back nine. The 10th hole is the toughest on the course, and after three shots I was on the green downhill and 30 feet away. This is often a three-putt for me, which would mean a double bogey.

Surprise of surprises, though, I made the putt for another par. And on the par three 11th hole, I hit my tee shot onto the green and made a 15-foot putt for birdie. I played reasonably well the rest of the way, and when I chipped to within two feet of the 18th hole and made my putt, I was astonished to see I had shot 79.

Everything good that could happen had happened.

If I go out again tomorrow, I may shoot 88 or even worse.

But for one day, at least, I was reminded of exactly why I love to play golf.