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Josh Simpson is a golfer from Norfolk, England who decided to spend a year trying to break the world record for the most golf courses played in twelve months.
He ended up playing 652.
Which is impressive, obviously. Also faintly ridiculous when you remember most of us need a lie down after 18 holes and a lukewarm sausage roll.
But Josh’s story is about much more than the number.
Golf had been part of his life since he was a teenager. He remembers having Wednesdays off at college, getting dropped at the golf club by his mum, and spending the whole day there. Thirty-six holes. Lunch in between. Exactly the sort of thing that sounds mad until you are a golfer, at which point it sounds like a perfectly sensible use of a Wednesday.
Years later, after losing his mum to cancer, Josh started looking at life differently.
She died at 61. She never got to retire. And the idea of waiting for "one day" suddenly felt a lot less convincing.
So he took a risk.
He stepped away from a stable business, bought a motorhome, and spent a year travelling around the country trying to play more golf courses than anyone had ever played before.
In this conversation, Josh talks about grief, taking the unsafe option, the strange reality of playing golf every day, the kindness of strangers, and what happens when the thing that kept you moving suddenly stops.
It’s a story about loss, golf, community, and learning to trust yourself a bit more.
Josh’s story gets at something a lot of people feel after losing someone.
Time changes shape.
The things you were going to do "one day" start to look different. One day becomes less of a plan and more of a bet you are not guaranteed to win.
That seems to be part of what happened for Josh.
He had the safe option. Stay in Norfolk. Keep the business. Carry on with a life that worked on paper.
Then there was the other option: buy a motorhome, drive around the country, play hundreds of golf courses, raise money, and hope the whole thing didn’t turn into a very expensive nervous breakdown with waterproofs.
He chose the unknown one.
What I like about Josh’s story is that it doesn’t pretend the challenge was just a dream year of golf. Parts of it clearly were brilliant. But he also talks about the mental grind. The early starts. The repetition. The same questions. The admin. The washing. The showers. The bits that never make the poster.
That feels important.
Because big challenges can look clean from a distance. Josh’s year was cold mornings, tiredness, strangers, generosity, pressure, and a lot of getting up and doing it again.
It also says something lovely about golf.
People invited him to their clubs. Bought him food. Offered him somewhere to stay. Shared their own stories. Helped with logistics. Turned up because something about what he was doing meant something to them.
Josh saw the version of golf that people outside the game often miss.
The version where different generations can spend four hours together chasing the same small white nuisance around a field. The version where people open doors, tell stories, and look after someone they barely know.
And by the end, he seemed to come away with something bigger than the record.
A bit more proof that he can back himself.
That he can take a risk.
That people will help.
And that sometimes the thing that starts as a ridiculous idea becomes the thing you needed more than you realised.
If anything in Josh’s story feels familiar, these might be useful:
Bereavement support, UK
Cruse offers support and information for people grieving after someone has died.
cruse.org.uk
Cancer support, UK
Macmillan offers practical, emotional and financial support for people living with cancer, as well as family and friends.
macmillan.org.uk
Mental health support, UK
Mind has information and support for mental health, including anxiety, depression, difficult feelings and getting help.
mind.org.uk
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