Fire up my gold watch

I had an anniversary today. I was the only one who dressed for the occasion. Some time ago, I made it my mission to stay with the company for five years. Today, I made it. I feel proud. I'm proud of what I've done and that I've carved out a little life for myself that now includes an office, more responsibility, and more other things that aren't unimportant. Somewhere along the line I realized that I like to be part of an organization that is helping people. I've learned a thing or two as well, and lost some of my optimism, probably not unimportant either. So today, sporting a yellow tie with blue spots, I took a moment to celebrate my little achievement. Like my diplomas, my spots were a symbol of the bundle of experiences that need to be built upon. This anniversary, like my 10-year high school reunion (that I did not attend), reminds me that while I'm proud of what I've done, it's what I have not done that scares me the most.

A spectacular failure with urban highlights
Today was bike to work day. Due to certain circumstances, not only did my bike remain in the dark corners of the basement, but I actually ended up on the roads driving a car home from work today. I think this marks the second time in five years that I have driven home from work and it could not have come on a more inappropriate day. While my behavior mostly makes me want to pull down a bike helmet and hide my eyes in shame, and while the traffic did make me consider leaving the comforts of my hybrid-for-the-evening to take a lead pipe to someone's shins, I did have two noteworthy urban moments.

First, after a nervous search for a zipcar, I got to experience my first ever car hand-off. I wandered around wondering where the zipcar could be. As I turned down the alley, I saw it pull in. A woman exited, we waved, and I entered. It was car-sharing at it's finest.

Later, as I searched for more than 10 minutes for a parking space (nothing for the urban vets, but not pleasing to me) I finally found a place to park illegally near where I wanted to park legally. As soon as I had shimmied into the spot, a car across the street vacated a legal spot. Magically the road cleared, I pulled out of my illegal spot, made a U-turn, and parallel parked on the other side of the street. That was pretty satisfying.

Update: Conflict resolution skills

I had a situation today in which I wanted to lash out and respond negatively to "a call". With Sunday's behavior on my mind, I instead chose to think about the situation from a different perspective. I eventually realized that there was room for my misinterpretation and a calm discussion with the caller led to that same conclusion. Perhaps the lesson about conflict resolution is not one that can be learned in the heat of the moment, but one that gets applied slowly and thoughtfully like a teriyaki marinade.

Ultimate. Ultimate. Ultimate.
I'm only going to make three observations about playing Ultimate yesterday, even though I could probably make more. Then I'm going to try to apply those three observations to bigger questions. Watch me now! (work, work!)

Observation the first: On a backhand fake, I stepped on the marker's foot and then he hit my hand as I slipped to the ground and called "foul." He reacted negatively and I announced, "You hit my hand." He replied, "You stepped on my foot." I lost my cool a little bit and said, "FINE. Then I fouled you." We sort of brushed our negative exchange aside and restarted the game.

Life Lesson/question: Does Ultimate really help teach conflict resolution skills? I suppose ignoring the conflict is a way to resolve conflict, but I'd like it better if I reacted with less emotion in the moment and we actually resolved something.

Observation the second: I had a pretty satisfying day yesterday and I attribute a large part of that to the personalities on my team and on at least one of the opposing teams. It really felt like we were pulling for one another, working together, and enjoying the day, the sport, and our opportunities.

Life lesson/question: Do the people that we share the field (pick a field, any field) make so much difference? Is there anyway to seek those people out or is it mostly time and luck?

Observation the third: Recently I have found a new (to me, I think? ) space to throw to on the field. It seems that everyone starts to shift to one side of the field and if just one receiver goes against the grain, I've had a lane to put the disc out to space that they can track down. When I think about this throw, it doesn't quite make sense. I don't think it should be that open or easy.

Life lesson/question: If the lane opens and you've got the throw, you might as well put it, right?

This is not the post I want to write

-There's a hole in my blue shorts. It is not along the seam, it's a very clean cut, and I can only assume that it is some form of sabotage. I don't know what my left thigh did to offend, but I don't want to be there when it retaliates.

-The cool(?) thing about running in a group is that it is glaringly obvious when I don't have much spring in my step. There was some glaring obviousness today.

-Barbara Kingsolver kind of rocks. I'm reading Prodigal Summer. I just finished a chapter that made me jittery about goat farming.

-I'm after something. I don't know what it is. I hope I have the right shoes to give chase.

One big happy family- Complete with the yelling and cursing
My role in the Ultimate of CUA has changed in the last two years as their confidence, their knowledge, and their needs have outstripped my ability to play-coach. Mostly, I've become a well-respected cheerleader with editor duties. I'm generally at peace with this transition as I think it meets the needs of the involved parties.

Yesterday, my connections to the team led to a special opportunity as I got a glimpse of how I fit into a bigger picture. I shared a field with an inaugural member, a few of the past stand-outs, characters, and captains of CUA Ultimate history, including the captain that originally welcomed me into the fold on a cold day more than five years ago. We faced off against the current team in their final tune-up before Division III Nationals. The phrase Division III Nationals tells the reader almost all they need to know about how far this team has come.

The Alums-plus team started well. I don't know if the current team expected us to roll over and play dead or if good fortune found us early, but for a group that had never all played together, we seemed surprisingly in synch. Perhaps, there are a few tricks to be learned after graduation. I think a few people were surprised at how serious the game was taken, as they remembered a lower-key version of this same sport played on the law school lawn, but for the most part the players that arrived to play had continued to play competitively at some level and they knew what we were up against.

We were up against a team that runs a structured offense and can become charmingly patient with the disc if the mood strikes them. It certainly made my heart pound a few times as I chased handlers around through dumps and swings, but it also made my heart sing to see such Ultimate being played. My favorite point, if I can brush off my bruised vanity for a moment, was a point when the traditional handlers were out of the game and the current team still found a way to score. They worked the disc in stops and starts, up the lines and through the dumps, taking only what old tired legs would give them and only what they knew they could manage, until their rising star could find a step (or three to five) and leave this poor guy diving at his heels as they took the half at 9-6.

The Alums-plus made a run after the half to pull to 10-9, but never seemed to sustain momentum again as our deep game was mostly stagnant, our defense started losing too many battles, and the intensity started to favor youth. These words convey a weight unrelated to the game, but one I can't separate from it. In the moment, the sun shone brightly and I thoroughly enjoyed my personal battles and the fight of my teammates, some more out of shape than others. It was a pleasure to be able to cheer both teams, and to have moments that saw 'Tini take flight and even with the sting of loss looming to try to will Frodo to do the same. To be a part of that growth, even in some small way, for a team to know how far they've come and still know that they have UP to go, to have watched so many of these players grow and to watch their games evolve and improve is a very special thing. The weight doesn't come from this game or this loss then, and it doesn't come from that evolution directly. Instead it comes from my own feeling of trying to cling to a torch that I don't want to give up, even if it was a torch that was never mine to pass. It comes from being a step slower, and from fighting my body in a battle that I won't win. The weight comes from having to acknowledge that battle at all.