The Caddie and the Cart Path

It was a Tuesday. Which at Willow Dunes means the Legacy Institute had just finished another round of swing diagnostics, and the Prestige Outfitters was restocking imported quarter-zips that breathe “better than oxygen,” according to one of our more dramatic members.

I wasn’t in any hurry. My group had canceled, and I figured I’d wander the course a bit. You can do that when you've put in enough years around here—walk without swinging, and nobody questions you.

Somewhere between the 13th and 14th, I noticed a young caddie walking alone on the cart path. Not riding. Not hustling. Just walking. Clubs slung over one shoulder. Head down, not in shame—just in thought.

I asked him if everything was alright.

He smiled. “Yeah. Just walking back from a loop. The member wanted the cart solo today.”
Then he paused.
“Honestly? I kinda like the walk.”

That stopped me for a second.
This kid—eighteen maybe, working summer loops to pay for school or gas or something bigger—just shrugged and said he liked the walk.

I thought about that for the rest of the day.

Here at Willow Dunes, we’re engineered for efficiency. We’ve got carts with GPS. A hydration concierge. A guy who’ll wipe your sunglasses between holes if you tip well enough.

But somewhere along the way, we stopped walking the path. Literally and metaphorically.

That caddie reminded me of something I used to know:
  Slowing down lets things catch up to you—thoughts, memories, clarity.

When you’re rushing from tee to green, worried about your swing or your score or what’s waiting in your inbox, you miss the stuff that matters.
You miss the hawk gliding above the 12th.
You miss the sound of the creek by 15.
You miss how good it feels to take your time.

I don’t remember the score I shot that week. Couldn’t tell you what I ordered from The Gilded Fork or who won the lawn bowling mixer on Saturday.

But I remember that walk with the caddie.
And the way he said it like it was obvious:

“Sometimes it’s just nice to slow down.”

He wasn’t trying to teach me anything.
But he did.

So here’s to the cart path. And the long way. And the moments you miss when everything’s moving too fast.

Next time you’ve got the option to walk—or wait—maybe take it.
Even just for a stretch.
You might be surprised what catches up to you.

— Eddie