“You’ll thank me when you’re old,” my dad warned.
But old was still decades away and I didn’t want to waste a summer afternoon suffering through some stupid golf lesson.
He made me go anyway.
I overslept the day of, so I skipped breakfast and instead pedaled furiously over to the course less than a mile away. About twenty minutes into the lesson everything went black.
I woke up to a panicked golf pro and a half dozen doctors offering assistance.
Lesson learned. The golf course at your local country club – not the worst place to suffer a medical emergency.
The Weekday One Hundred 