A return

Standing, held in a half-nelson by my own lungs, I coughed and heaved near the back of the endzone on our sideline. Nearly 360 days of attrition, of sitting at a computer, of disc golf and walking serving as my exercise, were now reminding me of my own mortality.

The reminders are coming too frequently lately.

On the verge of losing my PB&J, I regained control before coughing and heaving another spell. Finally after way too long, my body seemed to settle. My new team had just lost our first game 13-1, but I was so happy to be back out there playing, the score hardly mattered. The coughing made me concerned about a second game, but thankfully my body rallied.

I'd been nervous about this return to Ultimate for days. I played some disc golf that morning to try to calm my nerves. My heart rate remained elevated, but at least I was distracted. I avoided starting the first game, but then it came my turn to play as my weary teammates looked to the sidelines for a substitute. I didn't really have time to consider the moment any longer. I just stepped on the field and let instinct take over.

I'd considered wearing long pants to hide my brace, but chose comfort and honesty over trying to hide a weakness. All my weaknesses aren't braced anyway. I've lost step, an inch. I've barely thrown for a year. I've been away from the game because it's been too hard to try to stay around this time. The distance made me miss it and here I was back for a second game.

My knee felt ok. The rest of me was struggling a bit. I didn't seem to have an extra gear. That gear had been fading before last year. I tried to play smarter, but it's a lot easier to be smart when you're fast. Still, as we entered game two, I was contributing. The sun was shining and my new team was trying to figure out how to work together.

I kept volunteering to handle. It seemed to fill a need and it conserved some of my energy. I did get to catch one long pass deep. The throw was short and a female poached off her player to get in my lane. I started to jump and realized that she had position so I stayed grounded. She macked it and I ran it down, dumped it off and went in for the score. I threw a couple of flick hucks as well. A few times my disc golf grips confused me for a split-second, but overall those throws seemed to have helped my sense of power and distance. The first huck was swallowed by the wind, but the second one was in the other direction and drifted to my streaking teammate for the score. I tossed a few away as well.

We had a good half, but the game got away from us. I was not the only one running low on energy. Some soreness had started to creep in to my muscles as they recalled the effort it takes to play. It was a day like so many others with some good things and some bad.

I left with a smile one my face. It had been too long since I'd been on the field. Now, several days later, it almost feels like I could do it again.

Soon, very soon.