Renny Photos

Saturday. 7:45 AM. I hate alarms. As does, I'm sure, most everyone. The sound of an alarm means, "Hey! HEY!! Turn me off, asshole! Now! And then hope you are awake enough to remember to actually wake up in ten minutes!" Usually I'm not. And usually I don't. During college, I took to sleeping with my alarm so that it would wake me. That didn't work. I made it to that class a full four times the whole semester. But this time, I was ready. And on a Saturday no less. After what seems like months of 100+ degree temps, Bryan and I are going to make it out early enough to do something other than just sweat. And, fuck me, but the weather was beautiful.
We get to Renaissance about 8:15 and start heading out on the Gold layout. I will go ahead and say that we both suck. But not sucking isn't necessarily the point. Number 2 kind of ate us both up tho as we both had great shots for bogey but then ended up down the ravine... Here's the hole for Number Two... just across another ravine to hole Eighteen.
Some sadists in front of us had brought a friend of theirs to the course for his first time playing ever... Poor guy. But they let us pass through on 3. And, usually, when I play through, you can count on a disc in a tree. Or the water. Or two feet behind. But this time it was the perfect "S" around both bends and out into the open. Best. Number 3. Drive. Ever. Bryan managed to pull the same crap out of his ass and tossed a great drive as well. We totally looked awesome. But this isn't really a story about how great we appeared to be for a brief moment in time. I just want to show the pictures I took. So, onward.
The original front 9 wraps back and forth through the woods until it opens up for the eighth hole and down the hill into glorious number 9. number 9. number 9. But, really, that's for wankers. We're playing Gold. Number 9 is the real man's Number 8. So I give you the nicely tucked away basket for Number 8 with a big fat number "9" on it.
So we make the turn... and Number Ten is hard. I hate it. It's hard. And that is all. Number Eleven is the first long wide open hole on the course. And it's long. Over 1000 feet. and a Par 5. Needless to say, I have never gotten a Par. This time, however, was close. After my gorgeous third shot (in the photo), I managed, somehow, to completely toss the thing over treeline to the left of the hole and ended with a damned seven. Not sure how I did this, but I threw the disc and still managed to take this shot with the disc still in the air.
No comment on Thirteen. I also hate that hole. Number Fourteen saw shades of our former Number Three selves, but those were quick to diminish as we both completely botched the easy Number Fifteen heading in to the usually easy-going Number 16. Easy-Going in the summer, at least. Bryan beat me on Fifteen but still had a rather miserable score. I think the shock of that combined with the terror of remembering that you can't even see the basket for summer-time Sixteen resulted in... less than desirable actions prior to tee-off.