You guys. Tough life lesson I did not want to learn.
Did y’all know that throwing is not like riding a bike?
I went about three years without riding my bike, only to start up again in college, and when I did start again it was like I had never stopped riding, on some “look ma no hands” type jawn! I was throwin’ that money while I was doin’ it with no hands! (My biking form could best be described as what Lance Armstrong would look like if he was a woman, 5’3, blind, uncoordinated, not really paying attention to anything, and pedaling away from the rapture.)
Anyway, after MONTHS of not touching a disc — a combination of laziness, no available throwing partners, no soccer goals (my neighborhood isn’t populated by anything fun, only “Oriental massage parlors” and crack houses — case in point my neighbors), forgetting that I liked/played ultimate, and the desire to give my shoulder as long of a break as possible — I was a little nervous but still hopeful that mayhaps my ultimate “skills” had somehow survived the winter, even if in the most minimal of ways.
I found out yesterday (spring league tournament) and today (Chicago women’s combine) that I am even worse at throwing than I ever remembered. I pray that as the summer progresses and I get to play more regularly that I’ll suck less and be back to “not very good/not a thrower” as opposed to “worse than an uncoordinated person with a blindfold on who is also tripping on acid and having an asthma attack/has never touched or seen a frisbee before in her life ever”. I’m serious. It was that bad.
I’d like to blame the quality of my throws this weekend on my injured shoulder, the wind, or even the deep cut I got on the middle finger of my throwing hand at spring league (in a fit of rage, obviously, I dropped an easy upline throw because I couldn’t decide how to catch it — who does that? Who suddenly can’t decide how to catch something? I mean, just what?), but really, it’s just that I haven’t practiced. For someone who talks so much about wanting to get better and wanting to work hard, that’s just bad form. Color me shamed. *shame*
I never thought I could be so terrified of a mark. I mean, terrified! And wind?! What? Ya girl was strugglin’! Not a good look. Not a good look.
Welp.
(Long story short: Practice. Practice. Practice. Throw. Throw. Throw. Throw all the time. Throw everywhere. Throw in all sorts of weather. I mean, you just can’t get better if you don’t do those things.)
