Look, we're not superstitious. We're just a little stitious.
Thirteen (13) clubs instead of fourteen. Thirteen (13) seconds to pull the trigger. Thirteen (13) thousand steps around eighteen holes with a bag on your back. If you're looking for cosmic meaning here, you're going to be disappointed. This isn't about numerology or luck or breaking mirrors. It's simpler than that.
Thirteen (13) is what happens when you stop overthinking it.
:13 shot
Here's a question: How long does it take you to hit a golf ball?
Not the swing itself—that's over in a blink. We're talking about the whole production. The stare-down. The practice swing (or three).
The step back to check alignment. The waggle. The re-grip. The deep breath. The second deep breath because the first one didn't take. By the time most golfers are ready to pull the trigger it's way to late.
Slow golf sucks and it's not meant to be played that way.
Thirteen seconds. That's the magic number.
Not rushed. Not glacial. Just... committed. Stand behind the ball, pick your target, step in, and trust it. One practice swing if you need it, then go.
That's tempo. That's rhythm. That's the difference between playing golf and performing golf.
You know what happens when you take thirteen seconds? You don't have time to catalog every swing thought you've collected. You can't spiral into the hypothetical physics of whether a half-degree closed face at impact will send this thing into the water or just the rough. You commit to the shot and swing free, with pace and commitment.
Count it out if you have to. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, all the way to thirteen.
Establish your flow. Feel it become automatic. Watch the game speed up. Watch your playing partners stop checking their watches. Watch your scorecard improve because you're executing instead of deliberating.
It's not rocket surgery. It's golf.
And while we're at it, let's talk about the other reasons we love thirteen: the walk itself.
Walking eighteen holes isn't just "good for you" in that vague, doctor's-orders kind of way. It's roughly 13 thousand steps - four to five miles, depending on how well you're hitting it (sometimes closer to seven). You're carrying weight—anywhere from 17 to 30 pounds if you've stuffed your bag.
The original OG ruck march happened on a golf course. Golf was rucking before the fitness industry decided to trademark it and sell you a weighted vest. Golfers walked with bags. And got the chance 70+ times to try and hit a small ball to a target in the most pure way possible. In search of that right rhythm. License to complain about your back and tell stories about "the good old days."
But here's what the heart-rate-monitor crowd already knows: walking with weight is absurdly good for you. Cardiovascular health. Bone density. Muscular endurance. Caloric burn. Mental clarity. You're essentially getting a full-body workout disguised as a leisure activity. And unlike the treadmill at your gym that faces a wall, you're doing this outside, in nature, with topography that actually changes.
Speaking of which, you see things when you walk that you'll never notice from a cart. The slope of the land. The grain of the rough. The way the green breaks three different ways depending on where you're standing. You read the course like a book instead of skimming the CliffNotes from thirty yards away at 15 mph.
Plus, there's the psychological benefit of being outdoors. Sunlight. Fresh air. The sound of a goldfinch instead of the hum of a cart motor. Nature isn't just a backdrop, it's a performance enhancer.
We all know the studies that show time outside reduces stress, improves mood, boosts creativity, sharpens focus. Which, again, is something golf has known intuitively for about 500 years, but sure, let's let Silicon Valley reinvent the concept and call it "forest bathing."
