With obsession comes pain
Last weekend was the first weekend I'd played Ultimate in almost 2 months. I was nervous. Nervous that I might have lost more than a step and nervous that I would crumple to the ground with another injury. It passed as I did. It faded as I soared through the air.

"What is your vertical?" William, our elder statesman, a short man with gray hair and a love for the hammer asked me after I ripped a disc out of the sky.

"That was it," I laughed. "I can't go any higher."

****

I spent this week daydreaming. I was flying. I was diving. Even when the disc was bouncing off my outstretched hand, it was still magic. Maybe I had lost a step, but the renewed wonder and the seed of a thought that I might regain it were enough to keep me smiling at work.

I spent this week reading. I read about Ultimate. I read about coaching and how that applies to Ultimate. I want to test my theories. I want to grab a team and I want to go go GO. I spent a lot of moments jittery, excited, nervous, because I want to play some more.

But I've had to wait. I've had to wait for my sore muscles to forgive me. I've had to wait for a game. I've spent the last month relatively at ease with my decision to take a break. I've been riding and running, and even swimming with renewed vigor. This week, this week I've been a mess. I want more. I want to play. I want to improve. I'm frustrated that I can't channel that energy into the game, but I know from experience in a land called Ohio that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Ultimate 4 to 6 days a week and nothing else leaves me unhappier than this waiting.

I've got to find balance. I've got to find books that aren't about Ultimate. I've got to find thoughts that aren't about flying. I've got to funnel this energy somewhere else, so that when I'm a little down I can turn to those excited moments, but when I'm up, it doesn't have to be from an Ultimate high.