A Disc Golf Manifesto

Oh, delicious, brightly colored plastic. How I long to fling you at trees. And sometimes baskets.

Dear Disc Golf:
      When we first got together, I was skeptical.  I mean, I weighed so much that my scale wouldn't weigh me, and all I knew was that I had to have more of you.  The first round I ever played, I threw one of my ex-fiance's disc into a lake, and I laughed about it for hours while he stewed... Little did I know, he and I would not be together forever, but you and I?  You and I make magic.  We will be together forever. 

This is the new design for the center of a t-shirt I want to have made, to appropriately show my love.

Blue sky, bright yellow basket. Life is good.

Hole #24 at Forked Run State Park, Reedsville, OH

It's hard for me to explain my love for the sport of disc golf to people who have never played it before.  Upon my last calculation, I have spent over four hundred dollars in the last four years on discs alone, not to mention my bag, the gas to travel to all the different parks and places I've played, the new Nalgene bottles, the bags of ice (for the coolers and my ankles), the Skill shot that is standing in my front yard, replacements for discs (some of my own, some from other peoples' stashes) I've chucked into lakes and brush never to be seen again...  When I try to think about all the hours I've spent on the course, I just have to smile.

It's worse than adoration for a great game.  It's an addiction.  It's a burning, consuming need to let fly with a snappy drive or perfectly threaded approach shot, or to sink a curvy putt around a little tree.  Hell, sometimes it's just the addiction to the sunshine and the greenness of the course and the clean air.

It was Disc Golf that reminded me that there is an athlete that lives within this body, who used to climb trees and ride horses and camp out and swim.  It took disc golf to make me realize that the territory on the scale (400 pounds, give or take- not sure exactly, my scale wouldn't weigh me and it tops out at 350) wasn't acceptable, and that I had to change it, no matter how painstaking and slow.  I realize I'm not going to change it overnight, because I didn't get here overnight.

I didn't learn how to thread the needle at the Whipping Post with a stunning approach shot overnight, either.

I had forgotten so much of the young person that I was.  I had forgotten that there was an athlete who lived inside this body, who swam, ran, played skip-it for hours, rode horses, climbed trees.  For that, I will forever love the sport of disc golf.  I will continue to play it, no matter how fat or thin, young or old.  I will always love it.  It gave a piece of me back that I had forgotten about, and I will never forget that as long as there's air in me to breathe.

Thank you, Disc Golf.  For so many things, but really for waking me up.  Thank you.

My beloved pink Disc Golf bag. :)