​Two weeks ago I played golf in Oconomowoc, WI with a good friend. Over the past two years, when I’ve played, I get my golf watch out and charge it up. The watch is awesome.
 
You select the course and it gives you the exact distance to the hole from wherever you are on the course. It also lets you know the yardage to the front of the green and the back of the green. Another super feature is being able to see the distance to hazards (like water or sand bunkers) from your current location.
 
Typically not an early technology embracer, it was a leap for me to ask for the golf watch for Christmas. There are still courses you play these days that are not well-marked, and I figured, what the heck, I might as well try out the watch and see if it’s simple and I use it.
 
Quite frankly, I’ve come to rely on it. That’s not something I thought I’d ever say.
 
Having GPS coded into the watch is an incredible thing. You stop the cart and watch the yardage distance change. If you look at the fairway and see a marker indicating you’re 150 yards from the green, you can confirm that number or perhaps see if it’s really 144 or 156 yards. You get the exact number.
 
My dependence on the technology came home to me that day playing with my buddy. Quite frankly, it surprised me.

For the first time since I’d been gifted the watch, it failed.  The course (thousands of courses are coded into the watch) did not come up when I looked at the options on the dial. I tapped the start button and scrolled several times and our course of the day, La Belle, didn’t surface. Oh well, back to the old days.
 
You had to figure the golf carts that day would not have GPS and the fairways did not have yardage on the sprinkler heads, so you had to use the 200-, 150-, and 100-yard markers to best gauge your shots into greens. Typically I’ve been pretty good about assessing distance.
 
It became clear though that my skill in judging yardage had atrophied since the golf watch made its appearance on my wrist. I was just off. A little bit. But a little bit means a lot when you golf.
 
I over-shot and under-shot a few to the greens (one could also argue that’s just part of being a bad golfer, but we can address that issue some other day). I felt out of sorts. I kept tapping for a measurement, then remembered it wasn’t working. I played poorly.
Miraculously, the watch engaged on the back nine after I tried calling the course up again, and it was accepted by the software. When I saw it displayed on the screen I smiled. My buddy and I went on a tear after that.
 
Emotions play into many games and parts of our daily lives. As we rely on technology, it gives us a sense of control. Employed well, it helps simplify a process or allows you to improve a skill. The golf watch did that. But losing it for a half day also made it clear how technology doesn’t always work that way it’s designed. It’s not perfect. Be prepared.

​I am an addict. My close friends know that I can’t stop eating M&Ms. It doesn’t matter what kind, though my preference is Mini M&Ms. Plain are darn good too, and peanut will serve me well in a pinch. Once consumption starts, it doesn’t stop.
 
How do you break addiction? I really don’t know since I still pound the M&Ms by the boatload. But I have learned a few things over the years that help mitigate the need, and perhaps could lead others down the path to recovery.
 
First, we must acknowledge that chocolate is good for you. Don’t you agree? It tastes good, makes you feel good, puts you in a pleasant frame of mind. So what’s bad about that?
 
Sugar is in there, and all the experts say that is bad. Fat is in the M&Ms, too, and we know that plugs up your arteries.  And then there are all those artificial ingredients that cause liver tumors and fish to grow an extra set of gills encased in those colored shells.
 
That’s the good and bad of M&Ms. Get a sugar rush, then crash. Do it again. Eat more and more every day until you feel sugar gushing out of your ears.

That’s when you have a chance to beat the addiction. You’re saturated. You’ve had it. Time to quit.
 
I’m going through one of those phases now. The past couple of weeks, sick of M&Ms, I’ve started dialing back and finding alternatives (probably the key to defeating addiction -- finding something to do differently that takes the place of your over-indulgence). The first step was when I got to the candy aisle in the convenience store to bypass the M&M’s and started looking over the rest of the chocolate bars and treats.

This is a fascinating exercise in and of itself, and everyone should probably do this in the next week. Look at all the options. See how many colors, wrappers, concoctions you’re faced with, all in the name of sugar and tastiness. Is it any wonder I’m an addict.
 
My goal at this point was to wean myself off the M&Ms, which meant finding alternatives. The first choices were Snickers bars, Gummy Worms, Nestles Crunch, Vanilla Kit Kats. Some were good, some fell flat. Snickers bars, for example, just don’t cut it. I don’t know why.
 
Vanilla Kit Kats and Hershey’s Cookies and Cream became my go-to choices, and I reduced the size from what I was eating when over-consuming the M&Ms. Eat it slowly, taste each bite, savior it. That’s part of the process, too.
 
Once you settle into this routine, you must stay with it, then apply the next step – buy a smaller candy bar. Adapt to this. Break off tiny pieces.
 
Which gets us to the transition from candy to power bars to popcorn, then peanuts. Try a protein bar at lunch someday instead of the Kit Kat. See how it tastes. Cardboard-like? Sample another one. Find a game changer and go-to choice, then stick with that.
 
Next comes the popcorn. Caramel is excellent. Cheese popcorn cuts the mustard, too. Then shift over to plain. Munch it up.
 
That gets you to peanuts. Gobble them. Enjoy the protein. Eat as many as you like. If you’ve gotten this far, you just might make it.

Unless your wife greets you on Saturday morning with three bags of Mini M&Ms because you’ve been sneaking her snacks and she wants to get you back. Then you’re doomed.