I think travel is probably the downside of playing professional

Karrie Webb, master of her craft and champion upon the greens, once confessed with steady wisdom: “I think travel is probably the downside of playing professional golf, but you’ve got to do it.” In these words is contained the eternal truth of labor and sacrifice—that even the most blessed path, crowned with skill and glory, carries its shadow. For though golf gave her triumphs, fame, and mastery, it also demanded ceaseless travel, the endless journey from land to land, from tournament to tournament. Her words remind us that greatness is not bought by talent alone, but by enduring the costs that cling to it.

The ancients knew well that every gift carried its burden. Achilles was given unmatched strength, but his fate was short life and early death. Odysseus was blessed with cunning, yet cursed with long wandering far from home. So too in Webb’s confession we hear the same law: even in the pursuit of glory, one must bow before necessity. She loved the game, but the game demanded movement, disruption, and the weariness of the road. To refuse would be to abandon her destiny. Thus she accepted the truth: “you’ve got to do it.”

Her words carry also a hidden lesson in discipline. For what athlete, what artist, what leader has not faced tasks they would rather avoid? The training at dawn, the journeys through strange lands, the rehearsals repeated until muscles ache—all these are the less shining, less glamorous parts of the path. Yet without them, the shining moment of victory can never come. Webb teaches us that greatness comes not from delight alone, but from embracing the parts of the journey that do not delight us, yet shape us into who we must become.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great. He dreamed not merely of ruling Macedon, but of conquering the known world. Yet what did that dream require? Endless marches through deserts, bitter nights in hostile lands, the exhaustion of his army. He too could have called these wanderings the “downside” of his ambition—but he endured them, and thus the empires fell before him. In like manner, Webb’s ceaseless travel was the battlefield upon which her victories were built.

There is a deeper truth here as well: that no calling is pure joy. Even the sweetest fruit has its rind, even the noblest crown weighs heavy. To recognize the burden is not weakness, but wisdom. The one who pretends that all is pleasure will falter at the first hardship; the one who knows that hardship is inevitable will walk on with steadiness. Webb does not complain, she acknowledges—and in this acknowledgment, she shows strength greater than denial.

The lesson for us is luminous: embrace the full weight of your path. If you choose a calling, do not dream only of its rewards. Remember also its costs, and be willing to carry them. The true test of commitment is not whether you enjoy the sweet moments, but whether you endure the bitter ones. For it is through carrying the burdens that you prove yourself worthy of the gifts.

Practically, this means cultivating patience and endurance in your own life. Whether in work, art, family, or personal dreams, expect the “downsides.” Accept the long hours, the difficult duties, the travels you did not plan, the tasks you do not love. Do not see them as punishments, but as the hidden price of your chosen path. In accepting them, you gain mastery over yourself, and your journey, like Webb’s, will not be weakened by weariness but strengthened by resolve.

Thus, Karrie Webb’s words are not only about the game of golf—they are about the game of life. Travel may be the downside, but you’ve got to do it. Whatever your own “travel” may be—whatever burden clings to the thing you love—embrace it. For in that embrace, you will find the strength not only to endure, but to triumph.