Maya bikes five flat kilometers, stashes her helmet, and unrolls a slim mat behind the clubhouse. With one segmented 7‑iron and foam balls, she drills contact for eight minutes, then practices bump‑and‑runs. She’s back at her desk under forty minutes, calmer, sharper, and proud that consistent micro‑work translated into crisp wedges on weekend rounds.
Jon catches the first train, wearing spikeless sneakers and a wind vest. His backpack quiver holds a hybrid, wedge, and putter. He walks swiftly, plays three holes twice, and tracks tempo with earbuds. A light coffee replaces warmup. By eight‑thirty, he’s showered at the office, already replaying a near‑ace, grateful he skipped traffic entirely.