When I first started taking golf seriously, I was told to keep a journal. At the time, it felt unnecessary. Why write down bad shots when I just wanted to fix them?
Back when I was struggling on the mini-tour, I used to practice at a local course in Tempe, AZ. There was an older golf pro there who looked out for me. He was kind enough to let me practice and play at minimal cost — and to a struggling mini-tour player, that felt like a gift from heaven. Sometimes he’d stop by the range, watch me hit, and make a few suggestions.
One day, after another tough tournament, I was grinding on the tee line when he asked me, “Do you keep a journal?” My immediate answer was no. I told him I didn’t do those “fru fru” things. He smiled and explained I had the wrong idea.
He said the journal wasn’t about writing essays. It was just notes: the swing faults I was fighting, the fixes I was trying, the feels I wanted to keep. The real value, he told me, came when you looked back after three months. Patterns would jump out.
Sure enough, he was right. My swing mistakes repeated. I thought I had fixed a fault, and two months later it would show up again. Without the journal, it felt random. With the journal, I could see the cycle.
It’s the same lesson I touched on in Managing Habits in Golf and Life — how old patterns don’t just disappear but need constant awareness and management.
Over the years, I realized something: the same problems kept coming back every two or three months. One season it was my takeaway. Another stretch it was getting stuck on the downswing. I kept wondering, Why am I making the same mistakes over and over?
That’s when journaling clicked for me. By logging what was happening — the date, the feel, the ball flight, even how my body felt that day — I started to see patterns. And those patterns told a bigger story.
A coach once explained it to me this way: our bodies are wired with habits and limitations. Flexibility, mobility, strength — they all shape how we swing. If your hips are tight or your core is tired, the same swing flaw is likely to creep back in. Without a record, it feels random. With a journal, you recognize it quicker, and you know the fix.
Instead of wasting weeks searching for answers, I could flip back a few pages and say, Oh, I’ve been here before. This is what helped me last time. The gap between mistake and solution shrank. That’s the real power of a golf journal.
It’s not about writing essays after every round. Just a few lines: the shot that gave you trouble, what you felt, what worked when you tried to adjust. Over time, the notes start to talk back. They remind you of your tendencies, your strengths, and your blind spots.
And here’s the thing: once you start recognizing patterns, you can manage them. You know what drills help. You know what physical habits need work. You stop fighting the same battle blindly.
Golf is a game of awareness. A journal sharpens that awareness.
➡️ This is part of a bigger idea I call Performance Journaling — using simple logs to shorten the distance between mistake and solution. Whether it’s food, golf, or business, writing things down turns repeating problems into faster breakthroughs.