I am not dead. I suppose every once in a while a person could get to a point where they have nothing to say. This doesn't happen to me often because when I have nothing new to say, I find old things to say. And when I have neither new nor old, I just make crap up. Theories, syndromes, caste systems. The possibilities are endless with an overactive mind like mine. But lately I just haven't felt like writing. Seeing as how today I have completely caught up on all my work and have nothing to do for the next half hour...I write.
So once upon a time, back in eighth grade land (let's not talk about how many years ago that was) I was in my puke green gym suit playing ultimate Frisbee on the soccer field at school. Small groups of eighth graders were playing against small groups of seventh graders in a forced, non-competitive environment. Except one thing, I am competitive no matter what the dictates of my environment are and I despise cheaters.
What should appear amongst the throng of seventh graders playing against us? A cheater. Now...I can't remember details, and I refuse to believe that it is due to this event being so long ago, but rather that my mind has blocked it. It began to block it seconds into the confrontation because my friends will swear up and down that I said things that I don't recall saying. In retrospect, this all seems petty, but when I'm right - I'm right. In ultimate (at least middle school rules) you catch the Frisbee and can take three steps. This seventh grader took 4 or 5 and swore that she did not. We all saw it, we all knew it, but I apparently was the one to stand up about it (which is really actually, completely unlike me). The seventh grader and I got in a little verbal scrap - my first and final official fight within the school system. I do remember having to go to the guidance counselor and then sitting in her office crying and trying to get her to let me change schools, cause the grass is really greener on the other side (always). It didn't even have to do with the seventh grader at that point, I just wanted to change schools. No go on the school change. Anyway, that was the very randomly pieced together story of my bad experience with ultimate Frisbee. I avoided the sport for years.
A few years back however (and maybe it was just last year) I started to join the group of Ultimaters. A friend invited me, I went to just get some physical exercise. I figured I'd run up and down the field but nothing else. When someone on my team had the Frisbee I pointed out who they could pass it to - I had no desire to actually touch the Frisbee. Every once in a while someone would throw it to me, I'd most likely miss it, but when I caught it I felt really good inside. Pretty soon, I started to catch it more and more.
This year I've really enjoyed it. We play twice a week and I run up and down that field trying to get the Frisbee. I have even chosen it over basketball on more than one occasion. Last night was probably the best I've ever played (no seriously, not being cocky, just speaking seriously) it was awesome! My new goal had been to dive. I watched in awe as some of the guys would dive, tuck and roll, slide, etc. all in the name of catching the Frisbee. I am happy to report that I did all of those last night. It wasn't intentional, it was like the grass was wet, or the bottom of my shoes had lost all traction, but I was sliding all over the place, luckily 92% of the time I caught the Frisbee. I knocked down someone once too (all accidental). At one point the Frisbee was coming towards me, I thought for sure that a person on the other team was going to get it because there was no way that Frisbee was going to make it all the way to me, so I started to run forward as it started its descent towards the ground. I fell down on my knees so that my hands would be low enough to catch the Frisbee. My fingers slid under the Frisbee but my body was still in motion and as I grasped the Frisbee I did a little somersault and when that was done the Frisbee was still in my hand! I was shocked! It was exciting and I am happy to report that I absolutely love Frisbee, despite that bad experience back in middle school land.
Also, as with any sport, I am happy to report that I have a bruise right below my left eyebrow (from when the Frisbee said 'hello' to my face) and both of my knees are red and bruised. I love it!