You Cannot Imagine How Bad I Am at Disc Golf - -But You Can Try

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My friends, if there was any doubt in the entire universe about whether I am a disc golf prodigy, there is no longer. The question has been answered, and all surmising put to rest.

People of the universe: I am not — and I repeat, not — a disc golf prodigy.

Rather, I am an utter and outright enigma in the frisbee community. Or, to put it more succinctly, useless.

And, frankly, that’s a compliment. I’m pretty sure I rank even lower on the frisbee ratings chart. A skilled frisbee thrower I am not. But an emphatic giggler through the first eighteen holes of disc golf of my life? One hundred percent.

Did I love it?

Absolutely.

And, before we get started here, can someone please tell me how in the world you throw a frisbee???

My oldest son has become a fan of frisbee golf lately, playing frequently with his big group of friends, so he and I went to the local elementary school baseball field to practice throwing a frisbee together. I started as a complete newbie at that first practice session, and ended up a newbie with one hour of frisbee under my belt. Not much had changed, though the most minuscule forward momentum had begun.

Skills like these take time — months, years, after much practice and learning, with lots of dedication and consistency, and thanks to plenty of love for the endeavor. This is how skill building goes. Any skill. They’re all so similar. Practice makes progress and, if you stick with it long enough, perfect, as they say.

After two sessions at the baseball field, my dear son decided I’d made enough progress to try the local disc golf course. What a sweetheart that he thought I was ready for such a thing.

(Or did he and my husband need someone like me along to make them feel like pros? Interesting question.)

Disc golf, if you don’t know, is golf with a frisbee instead of a golf ball, and a metal chain basket on a stand instead of a hole set in turf. You throw a frisbee through a course of eighteen baskets, moving along like a golfer without all the luggage.

In our area, the wooded northern Virginia Piedmont also generously provides trees and brush through which you must direct your frisbee toward the targeted basket, all while keeping the number of throws to a minimum. If you play with me, you might think I confuse the word “minimum” for “maximum”. I don’t.

Yet I play on. Why? There’s more to disc golf than the game itself.

For starters, there is the gorgeous forest surrounding you. Regular golf is an uplifting experience because of the wide-open sky above, which is such a mood lifter and a thing of beauty, even on a cloudy day. Disc golf courses set in the open would be similar. Around here, the disc golf courses give you the dense trees, which are another type of mood-lifter — greenery, curious patterns, and woodland creatures. Nature has a strong effect on us humans. We’re meant for the outdoors.

The course we played on was part of a larger county park with various features, including a big waterpark nearby. The waterpark was in full swing that day, and this meant blaring speakers pushing out popular tunes for all manner of festivity. Music and I are meant to be together. I jammed my way through the frisbee baskets, throwing the frisbee many (many) times, while grooving along the way. If the music distraction had anything to do with my final score, it was worth it. I was partying.

And that was the point. I wasn’t there to be good or to compete, to know what I was doing or to feel like I knew what I was doing, or even to wish I knew. I was there to have fun with my family. If I got the frisbee into the basket within a reasonable number of throws — for me — then I was happy. I was happy if it took me countless throws, and sometimes there were so many, I struggled not to lose count.

Alright. Maybe I exaggerate a bit. The most throws it took me to get the frisbee into a basket was eight, and eight is great, right?

What was truly great was the chatter the three of us kept up, the laughter, the oofs we all expressed at one point or another, and the general happiness we shared doing something a little different together. I was grateful my son got us out there, and we tried our hands at this new experience. My final assessment of the outing was that I’d definitely do it again.

I look forward to more practice sessions with my son at the local baseball field. I do endeavor to learn how to throw a frisbee without winging it off sharply to the side or slamming it into the ground a mere twenty feet in front of me. I know all it will take is two simple things. One, acceptance that skill grows over time. Two, investment in that growth. Sometimes we come at skill-building with only one of these and get frustrated, feel bad, or give up — or all three. We’re just like Rome. We’re not built in a day.

For me, what is interesting about this frisbee-throwing project — if I decide to take it on — is that I have zero expectations. Mostly, I just love going to the field to throw the frisbee with my son. That is the prize for me, and if we keep doing it, I bet I do learn to throw a plastic disc a tad straighter. If I don’t, you should invite me to play with you. I’ll make you look real good.

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Hope you're doing well, friends. :-)