Last night I ate a meal on a cheap Asian airline service that had me up all night, sick again. Today, I couldnt eat anything because it would come right back up. I had planned on traveling to Malaysia to the tournament venue today, but because of this, I lay in a tiny, single bed, in a hotel you can rent by the hour in Singapore, trying to get myself in a state of health that allows me to do something else besides get out of bed to spend time sick in the cramped bathroom. My belongings are scattered about the room and there are no windows, making it quite a lonely and clostrophobic sight.
I spent the last few hours trying to catch some make-up sleep and then, thinking about the next time I step out onto the tee with the golf hole being the only thing in my field of vision. I think: this is the road to the Tour. It can be at rare intervals that are all too short lived, exciting and perfect, but more often than not, a test of faith and character.
This is the road I am on. It is not yet glamorous. There are very few galleries and sponsors, no VIP hotel rooms and rental cars, seldom do you find television crews and never do I you see large first place checks. The food has knocked me out for the third time this month, and again, has done so two days before a big tournament. But because of all that, there is nothing ordinary about this job and nothing gauranteed. You never have the same experience twice and it always leaves you learning something about yourself.
So as I lay here in what could be considered, one of the least glamorous and sickest states of being I have experienced in quite a while, I realize why I love this job: because after all this in a few days time, I get to step out onto the tee and discover what I am made of.