Andy and I played a round at Old Landing Golf Course this morning. We walked, carrying our bags. It was good exercise, but it did wear me down by the end of the back nine.
As a result, my last few holes were horrendous blow-ups. When tiring, I tend to stand up during my swing. I was topping the ball badly. And, with my hands tired, I was letting the grass turn my club head, resulting in severe slices.
My front nine hadn't been too bad, but the back nine breakdowns left me with a total score of 119. My worst this year.
Old Landing is our area's most mature course. It has fully grown trees, and some small hills. There is water, some blind drives, and a small squadron of horse flies to distract you. I like the place, in spite of the flies.