When My Calendar Fills, My Patience Empties
A reflection on burnout, bandwidth, and coaching in a fast-paced world
Over the past few years, I’ve started to notice something important in my journey as a golf coach:
When I teach too much without pause, the quality of my presence diminishes.
Duh… right?
If I teach six to seven hours straight — 60-minute lesson after 60-minute lesson — especially for several consecutive days without a break, I start to lose the ability to reset fully between students.
And that’s dangerous.
Every person who walks into a lesson deserves the best version of me.
Plus, my patience wears thinner. I can feel it — I get frustrated more easily, even annoyed (I’m only human ha).
Coaching Isn’t Just About Giving Information
Teaching isn’t just about delivering tips. It’s about reading the person in front of me and doing my best to meet them exactly where they are.
And that’s incredibly hard when I’m running on fumes.
I can’t rely on prior lessons or assume something that worked for one student will work for the next. Each person is a blank slate.
Or at least… they should be.
A Real-Life Example
When the Calendar Fills, the Patience Empties
Today, I taught a young girl — maybe a sophomore in high school. She’s very new to golf. We’d had one previous lesson together focused entirely on putting, and we hadn’t touched the full swing yet.
Before our lesson started, she told me:
“I want 20 minutes on driver, 10 minutes on putting, and the rest on bunkers.”
Honestly — and I say this with all professional compassion — she’s not ready for bunker shots. She can barely make contact on flat ground.
But this was her plan, and I respected it. So I adapted.
Driver, Setup, and Spray Bottles
We started with driver. I gave her some basic pointers: ball position, rhythm, and awareness of where the ball was striking the clubface.
Her rhythm was rushed — yanking the club back and through. Part of it stemmed from the fact that she was using a club that would suit an eight-year-old. She’s nearly full-grown.
I mentioned this right away — how club fit can influence swing mechanics — but she brushed it off.
When she asked how to get the ball in the air, I didn’t go into mechanics. There just wasn’t time. Instead, I focused on her setup and used foot powder spray (the best teaching tool, in my opinion) to help her understand face contact.
After a few tweaks, she got some in the air.
Then her phone alarm rang.
“Oh sorry, that’s a timer to switch to putting,” she said.
Okay… I thought.
10 Minutes to Learn Putting?
We walked over to the putting green.
And maybe I’m running blindly here — but she might be neurodivergent, or maybe just wired a bit differently. Or maybe this is just a new breed of the next generation. You can make your own assumptions, ha.
I had taught her a putting setup last time, but she came back this time with almost no improvement. Her stance was still vertical — zero hip hinge — and her first putt nearly missed the ball entirely.
“How do I get the ball in the hole?” she asked.
I gave a basic answer: speed control, green reading, and starting the ball on line.
Maybe I gave too much info in too little time, but I wanted her to understand that putting is more than just pushing the ball forward.
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Then she asked:
“Can I practice green reading at home?”
I kept it kind. (Remember, I’m running low on my patience odometer.)
I took a deep breath and replied — something like: unless you have a real putting green at home, that’d be tough.
Bunker Time (Kind Of)
We had about 15 minutes left.
I asked if she knew how to chip.
She said yes.
She did not.
She sculled several shots across the green, setting up like she was making a full swing. So I pivoted and showed her a basic flop shot setup on the grass — something closer to bunker motion.
She didn’t really care. She just wanted to get in the sand.
So… we moved.
I drew some lines, helped her feel the sand, and she tried a few splashes.
Looking back, I’m glad we did it.
At least she saw what the motion looks like — even if she wasn’t quite ready to execute it yet.
One Month to the Tryout
Here’s more context: she told me she has a high school golf team tryout in a month.
And I see this all the time — kids who suddenly care about golf only because they want to make the team.
That could be a whole other blog post.
But I do think a lot of their “why” stems from social acceptance. It’s about looking cool or saying they “made the team.”
Especially in a world of social media, where kids are constantly comparing themselves online.
Everything is performative now.
But Golf Doesn’t Work Like That
From a skill development perspective?
A month is not enough time to get truly good at golf.
Or anything.
Maybe — maybe — if the team is very casual.
But it’s like me trying to join a music band after learning guitar for two weeks.
It would be tough.
Final Thoughts
For the record — I don’t blame her.
I have empathy for her.
I think it has a lot to do with the culture we live in. Or at least the culture here in Boston. Fast-paced.
(Like my writing style in this blog. Have you noticed?)
Everything is instant now — Amazon Prime, texting, AI responses. Everything’s fast.
And I just worry this mindset is spilling into things that require the opposite — patience, presence, and process.
Friendships.
Meaningful relationships.
Building a skill.
Pursuing a passion…
All of that takes time and struggle.
And you can’t skip it.
Teaching on Empty
I hope this blog gives you a glimpse into what teaching looks like when I’m overloaded.
I still love what I do.
But I’m learning that to be a better coach, I have to protect the space between lessons.
Every student deserves a teacher who can meet them fully — not just technically, but emotionally too.
Thanks for reading.
Hope you could feel a little of my frustration — and my heart — in this one.
