Reflections ...
... on a year of failure, growth, and satisfaction
Exactly one year ago today, Kaylie and I were lying in a hotel bed in Billings, Montana eating Dairy Queen ice creams (Oreo Blizzard for me, Choco Brownie Extreme for her) whispering to one another about how far we’d come on our road trip down, around, and across the United States. The kids were asleep in the bed adjacent to us and the ice cream was in honor of my 35th birthday … a birthday on which I had the pleasure of driving nearly six hundred miles from Denver (with an oft-screaming baby and a toddler who refused to keep his ceaseless thoughts internal) to meet our self-assigned ‘day eleven’ waypoint on the journey across America.
It had been a particularly rough day on the road. It was the longest section of our trip and the repetitive nature of ‘cow, fence, wheat, semi-truck’ did little to capture the attention of the kids, who in turn focused on their quest to break the world records for number of car snacks consumed and tears deposited into their own laps. So as I turned my Blizzard upside down for the fourth time to prove to my exhausted wife that Dairy Queen must sprinkle magic fairy dust over their ice cream (for my Aussie readers, Google “Dairy Queen Upside Down Guarantee”), we agreed that we had almost certainly transversed the hardest part of the climb and it was all downhill from here.
Ah, to be young and naive again …
As I reflect on the last twelve months, I can’t help but take more pride in the obstacles and challenges we have overcome than the accomplishments I’ve personally collected.
In those 365 days, our family has moved across the world, immersed ourselves in a brand new community and culture, made new friends, figured out a new healthcare system, struggled through illness and injury, dealt with moments of homesickness, watched a loved one pass away …
The list goes on and on but I don’t want to stray too far from my main point … the Andrade family, as a unit, has shown a level of resilience unknown to us 365 days ago..
Reflecting upon what we’ve asked our kids to do this past year (leave their friends, leave their family, go to new schools, learn how to say ‘banana’ differently so the other kids don’t laugh at them), I can’t help but sit slack-jawed in a state of wonderment thinking about how adaptable and buoyant children can be. Not only have they adapted, but they have thrived since arriving in Australia. They’ve grown like weeds and their vocabularies now rival those of a few Gen Z colleagues I’ve had in previous lives.
When I shift the focus of my reflection to what I’ve asked Kaylie to do for me and our family, I end up nearly speechless. She has always been ‘in charge’ of our family, there is no doubt about that … but watching her turn into the CEO of Andrade Enterprises has been nothing short of extraordinary. She has become some amalgamation of Superwoman, Mary Barra, Mother Theresa, and Martha Stewart (minus the insider trading). She has lead the charge from day one in figuring out how to overcome each and every one of the obstacles we’ve encountered on this journey and fully embraced the challenge of raising a family in an unfamiliar country. Her unwavering support for my dream has been enviable for its consistency and passion. I’m a lucky guy.
As for me? Well I’ve certainly faced my own personal set of challenges this year. Relearning the game, rebuilding my body after nearly eighteen months of sitting behind a desk, and resetting my expectations for what ‘great golf’ looks like.
But perhaps the most daunting challenge has been getting back off the mat time after time … knocked down by my repeated ‘failures’ in tournament golf.
Since August 15th of last year, I’ve played tournament golf in Papa New Guinea, the Western Australian outback (Kalgoorlie), Perth, Brisbane (2x), New South Wales, Melbourne (4x), the Mornington Peninsula (2x), Gippsland, Torquay, New Zealand, and Thailand. And in those fifteen events, I have made exactly zero cuts.
Some of the MC’s have been palatable (played okay golf but just couldn’t make enough putts to keep up). Some have been heartbreaking (on multiple occasions I have doubled or tripled one the last three holes to miss the number by one shot). And a couple have been unmitigated disasters (some horrible spirit subsumed my body and left me to flounder like Jean van de Velde on the 18th at Carnoustie in 1999).
I’d be lying through my teeth if I sat here and told you all those failures didn’t have a mental and emotional impact on me. There have been multiple dark moments this year … a few times I’ve questioned what the hell I’m doing trying to compete again at this level.
But each time I’ve fallen down that hole, I’ve managed (always with support from my family and coach) to pull myself up, go back to the course the next day, and do my best to just get better in whatever tiny increment possible. I’ve managed to look past the micro-failures, take a macro view of my climb, and realize just how fast my game, body, and mind are improving day to day, week to week, and month to month. The tournament results may not show it yet, but I’m hitting the required checkpoints at home in practice and club competitions (since the beginning of May, I have an adjusted scoring average of 68.1 across 20 rounds with only two rounds over par).
I can see every single part of my game getting better. Both the data I’m tracking and the eye test say I’m leaps and bounds better than when we first arrived in Australia … and that I’m ready to compete. With a year of experience over here under my belt, our family properly settled in now, and the momentum building in my game, I fully expect better results in the ‘25/’26 Tour season.
Disappointing results aside, it must be said … man, am I having fun climbing this mountain. I love my colleagues at MERU and truly geek out over the cool stuff we’ve been able to do with our clients, but every day I get to grind on the range or practice putting green is a day I come home truly happy and fulfilled. I have come to live and embrace two very different lives each and every day. Away from the course, I’m energized by the chaos of a home with two rambunctious young children and two high-energy dogs … getting to be present for my kids and a helping hand to my amazing wife. At the course, I get to retreat into my own little bubble and fill my intellectual cup by solving little puzzles with each and every swing or practice putt or hole played. I get to be outside nearly all day long, soaking up the beauty of Australian golf courses and immersing myself amongst the coolest collection of wildlife in the world. I’ve traveled to places and seen things I simply couldn’t have dreamed up.
I’m proud of my approach to this journey and I’m proud of the person I’ve been on and off the course. I’m proud of not giving up. I’m proud of getting a tiny bit better every day. I’m proud of my family. I’m proud of my loved ones at home who have embraced our adventure alongside us from half a world away. I’m proud of my colleagues and old friends who have taken the time to reach out and send their support.
The next step is to be proud of my results in tournament golf … and I’m pretty confident this is the year. I may not have reached the summit by the time I pen next year’s reflections, but I can promise you I’ll have gained altitude. And with every step I take up the mountain, the view gets better, more intoxicating, and harder to turn around.
Thanks again for all the support and coming on the climb with me. I’ve been posting a bit more on my instagram @hazardsascent so feel free to follow me there if you’re not already. I’ll be back soon with updates on the 25’/26’ tournament season!
