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So I usually blog about quite successful monumental moments. The kind after-surgery triumphs that are noteworthy. I guess this would sway on the ‘Unsuccessful Monumental’ side.

 

On a completely normal Wednesday, I met up with a friend in a park for a throw. We got there and it was raining quite a lot and it was rather windy. We had planned to do some drill like exercises but opted to skip the running and and just throw on the clay bit where other frisbees people go. Once we got started, we realised this was going to be the kind of throwing where anything larger than short range would just let the winds take it everywhere. It was that choppy wind that changed every two seconds, so you couldn’t even adjust your throws afterwards because the wind changed direction and speed three times since the disc has come back to you. The rain was hailing down and in minutes,  I’m completely soaked. The kind of rain where you reach your max wet quite quickly- where there is no more rain to absorb and where hats and gloves become more of a soggy hindrance so it’s not long before they go.

 

 

A couple throws go up and I’m getting slowly pushed by the wind over to the grass area next to the clay. He throws one and it’s just out of my reach and I kinda know what’s coming- I’m completely drenched so what’s the worst that can happen? I guess in the movies, they’d slow it right down it would get all kind of grey and dramatic. The protagonist puts their body on the line, and it would all pay off in that one flicker of a second with one monumental grab. The journey of the injury was complete and they were no longer a boy but a man who’d finished their incredible journey. They would stand up from the ashes of what they were and would spike the discs hard in success as they were swarmed by friends and family and yeah that didn’t happen whatsoever. I was about six inches away. Time didn’t slow down and I flopped really hard on my stomach and barely skidded on the mud. I was no where near it. But as I stood up with a slight shaking feeling from the ground and the mud stretching in a long strip from my nipple to my shin, the feeling afterwards was, for the most part, somewhat similar. I’ve have to take that as my monumental moment for the time being- it kind of puts into perspective the idea of playing again as not completely unrealistic, provided I shift my focus. I may not be the top of my game starting out, but drills and light games is probably less work than I thought considering I ran somewhere, did a considerable amount of throwing and then “laid out” (okay, I flopped). I guess now as the weather starts to improve and restrictions loosen, maybe it’s time to get out more and edge closer to the field. 

 

Johnny