About Holos
It started with shaky hands over a three-foot putt.
Not nerves. I'd made that putt a thousand times.
It was the energy drink I grabbed at the turn.
I remember standing over the ball, taking my grip, and watching my hands refuse to be still. I backed off. Took a breath. Stepped in again. Missed it anyway.
Walking to the next tee I thought about what my other option had been that morning: a sports drink with thirty-six grams of sugar that would have had me crashing by the fourteenth hole.
And it struck me how strange that is. Golf asks something specific from your body. Four, five hours on your feet. Sun on your neck. A decision on every shot, and the ones that matter most come when you're most tired.
So I decided to build it myself.